X-Men Drabbles
by h311agay
Summary: If any of you have any requests, please direct yourselves to chapter 19. The rules for requests are listed there. If you fill all the requirements, feel free to leave a comment with your desired request! Each drabble is titled after any pairings or characters in the drabble. More than just listed in the filters. REQUESTS CURRENTLY CLOSED
1. What do you think of comics ScottBobby?

Scott is bisexual but like, so deep in the closet that not even Jean can really hear it in his head.

He has his little crushes here and there but always pushes it off as admiration so that no one, not even himself, really notices them. But he does really appreciate and adore Bobby, something he tells himself that everybody does. How can you not feel affection for the little prankster?

Bobby, on the other hand, is realising that some of his "admiration" for Scott is a little bit more than that. He's realising that, while he thinks Warren is hot, Scott is so much more than that. He knows Jean and Scott get married and have kids, and for some reason, that tears him up inside. So he pulls tricks on Scott all the time.

Little things like hiding pens or pencils that Scott just had. Or when Scott makes a warm drink, Bobby will make it go cold and then shrug when Scott asks him if he knows how it got that way. He'll make it snow in Scott's room when Scott is sleeping, so he wakes up and steps in a pile of freezing cold.

He does these little things to get Scott to come talk to him, even if it's to scold or reprimand because at least Scott is paying attention to him and not Jean. Jean hears these thoughts, obviously, and she feels bad for Bobby.

But she doesn't tell Scott, even though sometimes, she gets hints of Scott's "admiration" when Bobby is brought up or when he's talking to Bobby.

One day though, Scott confronts Bobby about the pranks and practical jokes because he's getting really frustrated when he finds his underwear in a frozen block or every match to his socks frozen as well. And Bobby avoids answering the question until he just blurts out that he's gay and Scott's like… well what do I do now?

So they sit down and try to talk things out about it and they both come to the conclusion that right now isn't the time to pursue relationships with anyone but when they get back to their time, if they remember any of this, they'll give it a shot even though being out back in their time is a really tricky subject.


	2. ScottBobby first time

For years, they had known each other. They had gotten to a point where they knew how each other worked, where the other would be on the battlefield. They knew what made the other tick and what made the other freeze up whether it was literally or metaphorically.

They snuck off together, under the silver light of the moon, to drink in the woods, sometimes accompanied by Hank and Warren, more often than not these days, they were going alone. Scott knew something had changed with him and Bobby, but he couldn't place it. Ever since they had gotten back from the future, something was different. The playful shoves and shoulder bumps felt different. There was a tension between them that Scott couldn't place but it was always one the tip of his tongue.

Right now, they sat huddled around a small camp fire they had made, a few bottles of beer laying in the grass as they laughed. Hank was muttering about being tired and bid them goodnight, Warren following a few minutes later. Bobby made a remark, calling them losers, but there was no malice in his voice.

And then they were alone.

Scott turned to Bobby, his stomach twisting in ways he didn't understand. The other was looking at him, almost pleading with his eyes for something Scott didn't know he was being asked for. They stared at each other for a moment before Bobby broke the silence, his voice cracking like the fire. "I thought we made a promise, Scott." The fire popped, but other than that, a tense silence enveloped them. "You told me... But maybe you've forgotten." He was the first to look away. His blue eyes focused and on the fire and Scott's gut was twisting and he felt sick. He felt so, so sick because he knew there was something he had promised Bobby but it had gotten so lost.

He didn't know what it was. "What did I promise you?" His was nearly begging for an answer. He felt so torn up over this... whatever he was feeling. He didn't know what it was but it was something and it was so strong and violent.

Bobby shook his head and then his shoulders were shaking. "I was stupid to think you'd... At least with Warren I was able to be told flat out. Jean knew he... But you, know one knows with you. Jean's the only one who knows anything. But she doesn't even know with you."

Scott put his hand on Bobby's back and knelt down in front of him. "Tell me what I'm forgetting, Bobby. I can't make it better if you don't tell me what I'm forgetting."

"You're forgetting us," he whimpered, tears going down his cheeks. "God, I've been trying so hard to just forget it, but I can't. I can't forget what you promised. I can't forget that you told me we could try and be a thing."

Scott felt his heart stop and his stomach lurch. A thing? Him and Bobby? When did he...? He was hit with the sudden memory of them sitting and talking, much like this. Bobby, ever-happy Bobby with a constant grin and snide remarks, Bobby with laughter and jokes, pranks that drive you insane but are needed in this dark, dark world, crying. Bobby crying and trying to hide his pain but it was obvious something was wrong and Scott was pushing and pushing and pushing and...

They were kissing. Scott held Bobby's face in his hands. Bobby's lips were pliant and pleasant to kiss, just the right amount of plumpness to them. Scott kissed him as the fire burned behind them, kissed him until their lips were bruised and coldness from the dying fire and night air and Bobby himself was seeping deep into Scott's bones. When pulled away, he was shaking and so was Bobby, but most likely for vastly different reasons.

They knew each other well. Well on the battlefield and well in their personal lives, but to have had so much important information hidden between the two of them was unacceptable. How Scott didn't know that Bobby squirmed when hands were gliding over his chest, Scott couldn't fathom. How he didn't know that Bobby loved to have his nipples nipped was beyond his imagination. How he didn't know that the dip in Bobby's back was the best place to put his hand when pushing himself deep into Bobby, he'd never figure out.

He knew that Bobby's favourite colour was light blue, but he hadn't known how dark Bobby's cheeks got when he was close to an orgasm, or how that darkness spread up to his ears and down to his chest. He had known that Bobby hated warm places because his ice powers struggled to work, but he hadn't known that there was a heat that nothing else was equal to inside of Bobby. They knew where each other would be on a battlefield, but he hadn't known what it felt like to have Bobby scratch down his back when they made love.

It was all so new and amazing and Scott couldn't believe that he hadn't known everything about Bobby from the beginning.

When it was over, they were panting, chests heaving and the smell of sex was in the air. Scott laid down on top of Bobby, too tired to do anything else but grunt. Bobby giggled, nervous and panicked, but also so calm and sedated. "I didn't know it was like that," he breathed, another small laugh leaving him.

Scott rolled off of him, smiling. He knew a lot more about Bobby know than he ever did before. It wasn't bad, he concluded, not bad at all.


	3. School is Out Warren x Laura

The final bell of the day rang and Warren forced himself out of his seat. The heat in the mansion was weighing him down, making his wings feel even heavier than they ever had before. He finished packing up his books and slung his bag over his shoulder, grimacing when it hit his wing. He dropped his books off in the room he shared with Bobby and went out to the balcony, the lazy summer wind gently blowing stray locks of his hair across his face. He had decided to let it grow out.

He heard a woman's voice and turned to see Storm talking to a few students that had congregated at the front of the manor. He knew they were all getting ready to leave for the summer, to go home to their families, to be with their loved ones. He felt a pang of longing in his chest but shrugged it off and turned to look up at the sky. Overhead, seagulls were flying, their screaming cries reaching the people down below. If he flew up high enough, no one would ever know he was a person and not a bird. He hadn't flown in a few weeks; something inside of him was weighing him down.

It had been a few years since he started having the nightmares. At first, they weren't bad. A grotesque face, screaming, fire, nothing unoriginal or all that worrisome. But three years later, he was having them every single night. He woke up sweating, feeling like he was on fire, his throat raw like he had been screaming. More often than not, he woke up because Bobby was shaking him, his hands frantically working to cool down Warren's feverish skin. It felt like there was a fire inside of Warren and he couldn't explain it. Bobby never asked what the dreams were about, but he caught him looking at him often, eyes glazed over and eyebrows scrunched.

It made Warren feel exposed.

Now, on the balcony, the hungry fire inside of him was eating away at everything it touched, making him shake and hold onto the railing. He really didn't need to launch himself over it and not catch any air. The fall would surely break a bone or five. He felt like screaming. Warren closed his eyes shut tight and pictured her. The girl with black hair and shining claws, so much like Logan in that aspect. He saw her grinning, a toothy, cocky grin that made his stomach twist and knees go weak. He saw her in his arms, his wings like fire, as they flew above city after city. He saw his eyes reflected in hers, saw them kissing.

He screamed, throwing his head back. He saw her burning, he saw her crushed, he saw her slowly repairing herself, bone by bone, tendon by tendon, muscle by muscle. He saw her dying time and time again and he saw her building herself back up from death, just… like… Logan.

When he stopped screaming, he noticed that the students in front of the manor were staring at him and Storm was hurrying over, her moves frantic and panicked. He heard movement behind and turned to see Bobby approaching him, concern written on his face. "Warren, are you okay? I wanted to ask if you wanted to catch a movie with us since school's out but… do you need some alone time?"

Warren's wings were twitching and his heart was racing. Storm was getting closer and Bobby was standing there, patiently waiting with worry all over his face. Warren felt the fire raging and his face contorted, tears stinging his eyes. "I-" His throat was tight and he could hear Storm calling his name, asking if he was alright. He gasped and threw himself off the balcony, squeezing his eyes shut as he caught air and flew high up into the sky. He felt the air and his blood rushing in his ears. Despite the calls from Bobby and Storm- the latter of which could easily follow him- he flew away. He flew over the city, over the bay. He flew until his wings grew tired and the sky was dark. He landed in an alleyway, catching his breath. His wings were aching and shaking from the strain he had put on them. He was lost, he knew that much. He realised that he was far away from the manor without any way of hiding his wings. Not that that was an easy task back at the manor either. He had stopped wearing his straps because he had been yelled at, told that the straps could cause his wings damage.

He realised he hadn't hidden them in years. Mutants were well known now, but not widely accepted. He stepped out of the alleyway, reaching into his back pocket and feeling relief at finding his wallet. He walked into the closet store that was still open.

His hair tickled the back of his neck as he flew over the flat, dry land beneath him. He was certain he was somewhere in Nebraska, far from the Mansion back in New York. It had been about three weeks since he flew away that day, yet the fire was no calmer. It was eating away at him from the inside. The nightmares still plagued him and he was sick of waking up screaming. He had many incidents were the motel staff came rushing to his door, knocking and asking if he was okay. He landed down in an empty parking lot, in front of a small store called Uncle Neal's. He had seen a sign somewhere from above that told him he was in a small town called Minden. He walked in, ignoring the gaping stares of the employees and few customers that his wings created. Off to his right, there was the cash register and to his left was a small dining area.

The floor was made of tile and the walls were white, stained with age. The florescent bulbs above hime cracks and whispered, dusty and in desperate need of some care. He ordered some warm food, his stomach growling at the thought of real, warm food. There weren't an abundance of options, but plenty for Warren. He asked how large the pizza was and got an awkward response. A personal sized pizza. He thought for a moment and then ordered two, as well as a large Coke and pretzel poppers. He was famished. He paid and once he got his food, sat down at one of the tables.

The chair was hard and the backing was metal, but it wasn't the worst thing Warren had ever sat on. The table was slightly sticky from usage throughout the years, but that was the last thing on Warren's mind. He scarfed down the food and drink, stomach soon feeling full and heavy. He threw out his trash and approached the counter again. "Where is the closest phone booth?"

After a nervous answer, Warren began down the street, eyeing the storefronts and houses. The town was small and it was late, most people were inside. He noticed a few groups of people here and there, lit up only by the weak orange light from the light posts. He suddenly felt exposed and the fire inside of him was lurching. He found the phone booth and popped in some change, waiting for the operator. A tired, staticy female voice came on and he forced himself not to scream. He had his head turned so he could see behind him. "Hello, yes, I'd like to be patched through to the Xavier School of Higher Learning, please." There was a pause as the operator found the number and a loud popping sound as she transferred him to that number.

He heard the Professor's voice and he felt himself grow even more sick. "Hi, Professor. It's Warren." He swallowed hard, tugging out a few feathers in anxiety.

"Warren, where are you? We have all been greatly worried.

"I… Where I am isn't really important. Um, I just wanted to call and let you guys all know I'm safe. I'm really sorry about running off. I- uh. Could I talk to Bobby? Is that okay? I don't know how long I have with the phone booth and I'm pretty short on change."

Warren wasn't sure why he couldn't just talk to the Professor, but he felt like the Professor was going to look into his mind through the phone, even though he knew that was asinine thinking. There was a short moment of silence and then he heard Bobby's voice. Bobby, the only person who knew about the nightmares and long nights without sleep. Bobby, the last person he spoke to before he flew off to Minden, Nebraska.

"Warren? Where are you, dude! I've been so worried these past few weeks. You just, screamed and took off. I'm really worried."

"I… I'm fine. No, no I'm not. That- that's why I left. I need to- to, like, find myself, but. I'm okay. I am. Safe, at least. But I wanted-"

"I'm glad to hear you're safe."

Warren swallowed, his chest feeling tight. He hadn't realised how worried everyone was. He felt horrible for leaving like he did, but with the fire growing inside of him and the nightmares getting worse, he had felt so trapped. "Yeah, sorry. But, I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm okay and stuff and.. I'm not sure why I didn't just keep talking to the Professor but I just felt like it would be better to talk to you. Hey, I'm sorry I ditched you on that movie. Really shitty on my part. Sorry. But, anyways. I… I will be back at school. I don't know when but I will be and I just… wanted to tell you that and I mean, guess you should tell the Professor that, too. I'm not gone forever I just…"

"It was because of the dreams, wasn't it?"

He hated how Bobby wasn't as dumb as his jokester attitude gave off. "Y-yeah. Yeah. I just… I gotta know why I'm having them. Why it feels like I'm on fire all the time. And who that girl is. Maybe running isn't the answer because I know the Professor would help, but something's telling me that the answer is better if I find it on my own, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I'm not mad at you. None of us are. We're just worried about you. Call us again, okay? Keep us updated. Three weeks of hearing nothing is really scary." Bobbys' voice softened, "it was really good to hear from you, Warren."

"I-" an automated voice interrupted him, telling him his call was almost over. He swore under his breath. "Hey, Bobby, I gotta go. My time's almost up. It was… it was really nice to talk to you. I'll be back; I promise." With that, he hung up, pulling out more feathers from his left wing. He bit his bottom lip and wrung his hands together.

He backed out of the phone booth, lost in thought. He heard a pop from behind him, someone's shoe kicking up a rock. He spun to find three guys dressed in black, ominously half-circled behind him. He frowned and brushed hair from his face.

"We know what you are," one of them growled.

"Is that thing I am possibly an angel sent from God above to change you of your ways? No? Damn." Now was no time for him to be joking, but that's how he got when he was nervous, usually. Just now on the phone, he had no idea what that rambling mess of stutters and noises was. One of them made a move toward Warren but he sidestepped him and thanked all of the practice Xavier had put him through. "Listen, I'm really not the type of person you want to fight."

"We don't care what type of person you are," a different one spoke up, his voice was higher pitched and almost horrible to listen to. He laughed, that was even worse. "All that matters is that you're one of them muties. A monster. A fuckin' freak. An' we're gonna make this world better by one."

Warren sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He continued to back away, hands up by his chest. "Listen, I really, really don't want to fight you guys. I've been on this whole 'we shouldn't fight people, instead understand them' regimen and I'm sure my professor would be none too happy to know I beat up three people in the middle of Nebraska."

The third one, the one he hadn't been keeping too keen of an eye on, reached into his pocket. Warren felt his heart spike when he saw the silver flash of a gun. "Oh god, please. Can we not talk about this like civilised people? Do I really have to do this?" The sudden sound of the gun shooting answered Warren's question. He felt intense heat blossom in his right shoulder and wing. He grimaced, left hand going up to the shoulder in a panick. He pulled it away to find blood. His face went pale and looked up at the attackers, blue eyes wide in horror.

Suddenly, the fire in him, that had been boiling over all night, exploded. He flew up into the air, skin warm and the air hissing past him. He heard the attackers gasp in surprise. Oh, how he must look to them. An angel for sure. His blond hair billowed as he stopped, just high enough for the once stagnate air to finally shift. He stopped to catch his breath, looking down at them. Something was wrong with him. Something was different. He noticed it looked like his skin was on fire, but that wasn't possible. Warren didn't create fire. He never had. He flung himself down to earth, scooping up on of the attackers, the one with the gun and flew fast up into the air. The gun fell from his grasp. Warren was no longer any angel. He was a vengeful one.

His tongue felt thick and the words were foreign. "I could drop you from up here. Hundreds of feet in the air. You would die, but not before feeling every bone in your body break."

After much pleading and whimpering, Angel lowered his altitude and dropped him on top of his friends from about fifteen feet, reveling in the sound of their pain. He flew off, the fire engulfing him and changing him. " I'm coming to find you, Laura ," he hissed.

He woke up shivering. The rain was a light drizzle, but Warren was soaked to the bone. He must've slept through the rain for a while to have gotten this drenched. He stood and looked around. He was by the Puget Sound, the annoying call of seagulls and the barks of seals could be heard coming from over by the Ferry. He walked around until he found a small gas station, a 7/11. They had pretzels in a hot box and cooler with Coke. He grabbed two of each and paid for them at the counter, the person eyeing his wings in fascination. He gave her a terse smile and walked out, hiding under the overhang to eat his pretzels. He noticed a lot of people stopping and staring at him, and when they stared for too long, he would wave politely.

He had dreamt about her again, when he had first seen her with all of her skin charred and licked away by fire. The first time he had seen her bones, shining and glistening, covered in adamantium. He watched as her muscles grew back and her skin grew back, patches of it raw and red, almost festering. He dreamt about a time a man larger than life had crushed her skull right in front of him. That had lead to a large fight, a break up. He had dreamt about holding her limp hand and sobbing. He knew her name now. Laura.

He went back into the store and asked the cashier the date. She was pretty, in a plain kind of way. Light skin with large brown eyes. Her hair was dark, almost black, and wavy, pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled and gave him the date, eyeing his wings. "Are they real?"

He paused, his smile of thanks slipping off his face. "Yes," he replied shortly.

"I think they're cool. I used to wish I had powers or was a mutant," she admitted. "But after I saw a friend of mine get beat up for being one, I kind of realised I was really lucky that I was born without all of that. But I love mutants. I think they're the coolest thing. You guys are cool." She smiled, her teeth slightly crooked, like her smile.

"Thank you," Warren replied, honestly unsure of how to respond to that. "My name's Warren."

"Laura," she replied, holding a hand out for Warren to shake. His heart stopped in his chest and he could feel the floor slipping out from underneath him. It took everything he had not to pass out and to take her hand without breaking it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he breathed, feeling his heart sink down into his stomach. At their touch, the fire inside of him dimmed down.

"Are you from around here? Bremerton isn't that big, so I should have seen you around here at some point," she laughed lightly, leaning over the counter some.

"Actually, no. I'm from New York."

"Well, if you need a place to stay, my apartment isn't that far from here. It's just up on Highland Avenue," she pointed in the direction of her home. "If you want, I get off in just another hour. You can crash there."

Warren knew he shouldn't take her up on her offer. It was too tempting. There's no way that he found Laura across the country. No way he found who he had been looking for, with her dark hair and dark eyes and crooked smile. He should say no and walk away. "Sure, thanks. I'll just chill in here, then. Thank you."

He leaned against the counter with the coffee and watched Laura work. The people that came in were all so friendly and nice, they all stopped to talk to Laura. A few looked over at Warren with wary looks and he always smiled and waved, not wanting to look off-putting and unfriendly. He came across that often, so he had been told. When Laura's shift was over, they walked to her house. It was up a hill and Warren was surprised to see her walk it with ease. If he hadn't been used to strenuous training, a hill like this would have winded him for sure. The house was blue and seemed small from the outside, but inside, it was a lot more spacious. The downstairs was all wooden floors except for in the sunroom, which was a thin, hard carpet. Laura dragged him upstairs and pointed to a room painted a light baby blue. There were two twin beds in there. "You're welcome to sleep in this room. Right here's the bathroom. I'll be in here," the three rooms were all very close together. The hallway no longer than ten feet long.

After a small dinner that Laura made, they settled in the living room to watch the news on her television. It was small and no where near as grand as the ones Warren's family or the Mansion had, but he wasn't really expecting too much from her. Laura interrupted the silence between them with a small yawn. "Man, it's getting late, isn't it?" She smiled at Warren. "I'm gonna head to bed, turn off all the lights when you're done."

"LAURA!" Warren woke up screaming, his wings shot out and knocked down a lamp. Laura came crashing into the bedroom, her body covered by a short, silken night gown. Panic was on her face and she stood awkwardly in the doorway after turning on the light.

Warren felt himself grow red in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. It was a nightmare. I am so, so sorry. I can pay for the lamp." Laura shook her head and sat on the edge of Warren's bed.

"Do you have nightmares often?"

Warren swallowed, his face growing hotter. He nodded sheepishly. "A lot. About fire and flying and a girl named Laura. Who looks an awful lot like you but sadder and meaner."

She smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." Her smile faltered after a moment. "Was it someone you loved?" Laura tilted her head as she asked him the question; it was so innocent.

Warren nodded but followed it with a shrug. "I think she was. I feel like they're memories I'm seeing, but I don't know. I don't know when they could have happened. It's all surreal. But I left New York because something was eating away at me. And it's gonna sound so weird, but when the moment I saw you, the fire stopped trying to escape. And maybe it's because you look like her and have the same name. But this is the first time in years I haven't felt trapped in my own skin, just… trapped in my own mind."

Laura frowned. "It doesn't sound weird." She leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face. Then they were kissing. Her lips were soft and pliant, warm and welcoming. They kissed like that for a while, slow and learning. It got hotter, more heated, a different type of fire began to burn inside of Warren. They stood together and made their way into Laura's room, her shag carpet making Warren's feet sink. They fell onto her bed, the springs creaking and Warren's wings snapped out behind him.

When he woke up in the morning, he felt heavy and sedated. He yawned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Laura was waking up next to him, her pale body naked and covered in goosebumps. "Brrr," she laughed, tugging a blanket up around her. "It got cold last night." She smiled up at Warren. "But you sure did keep me warm," she laughed before sitting up.

Warren could feel his throat growing tight. She was so beautiful, but this wasn't the Laura he was looking for, even though she looked so much like her . "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, standing and gathering his clothing. "I'm sorry."

Laura's eyes filled with hurt but she gave him a small smile. "No, no. I… I understand. I'm not her. I shouldn't have kissed you last night. But you just… Looked like such an angel. I couldn't help myself."

Warren gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I think… I think I'm going to go back home. I'm out of school right now, but they will be starting up again soon and… I have some stuff I have to touch up on. I'm sorry and… thank you."

He left her house and went over to the bayside, looking out at the sparkling blue water. Washington was beautiful, and he'd have to come visit some time in the future, but for now, he had to get home to New York. School wouldn't be out forever.


	4. Scott x Bobby Bobby x Kitty

**What about adult Scott and Bobby and how Bobby ends up forgiving Scott for Schism and AvX and all that stuff?**  
 **Alright, so I'm gonna make this take place during All-New X-men verse, bc if you think about it, that would be the perfect timeline to do so. Just bear with me, bois.**

Their younger selves were here. They were stuck here, in the present or the future or whatever the hell it really was anymore. They were here and he knew his younger self didn't know yet, didn't admit it. He actually didn't know when he had actually come to the conclusion that he was gay. Somewhere in his teens for sure, maybe early twenties. He knew once he realised it, he never had a girlfriend for much longer, despite his denying it.

Their younger selves were here and they were ruining everything. He knew Scott and himself were in the library right now, he was no idiot. He could see them talking out of the corner of his eye. He thought they'd keep to themselves, but soon enough, he saw them at the window, pointing, as he kissed Kitty. It was going to be one of their last kisses, he knew. He knew because he never dated a girl for long before the guilt of suppressing who he was ate away at him and he hated himself and wouldn't leave him room for days. Those episodes were less and less now, however, because he didn't have time to sulk when everyday, Cyclops was threatening mutankind with his lunatic thinking. Cyclops was only doing what he thought was right, but Magneto had that same damn thought process and how often did it get him locked up. How often had doing what you thought was right kept you alive and well, alive and sane? Never. Everyone who ever thought that what they were doing was for the greater good always died in the end and it was senseless to do anything for anyone anymore. Sometimes Bobby was glad that there was no longer a telepath on their side because he was sure he would have gotten chewed out for thoughts like that.

Then again, Bobby always missed Jean even more when he thought like that. Because she would have chewed him out and set him straight. Even if she couldn't _make_ him straight.

They had teamed with Cyclops. He couldn't believe it. Just the other day, Kitty had been swearing and ranting about how horrible he was, and how she wished he had died instead of Jean because then there wouldn't be two-hundred mutants running around, scared and defenseless. He had let her rant, had let her blow off her steam. They had sex afterwards, and Bobby knew that it was going to be over soon. He couldn't bring himself to keep thinking about other men when it was Kitty. He couldn't fall asleep next to her, whispering "I love you" when he didn't mean it.

Cyclops was in his room, wringing his hands. Bobby wanted to ignore him, but he looked so sick and stressed out. He had his mask off and his glasses on. There were frown lines on his face that made him look like he was perpetually scowling. He had aged so much in the past few years, not physically, but mentally. It was wearing him down in Bobby's eyes and he couldn't help but be himself and go into Cyclops' room and try to help him. Because that's how he had always been. He was always the guy to cheer others up. He sat down next to him and didn't speak at first, letting the tension between them bubble over and dissipate.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Scott sighed, jaw clenching and twitching and Bobby couldn't help but find that endearing. It was something that would never change about Scott. Scott brought his hand up to his ear to push back his hair and then lowered it. Then he brought it up again, again, again, again. After the fifth time he stopped and sighed, looking across the room at the wall. His foot tapped, one, two, three, four, five. He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. "It's all my fault, Bobby. Everything. If I had just worked harder, trained harder. If I had just _listened_ and worked harder. I should've done better. I could have done better. Jean deserved better. Mutants deserved better." He brought a hand up to push hair out of his face. Again, again, again, five times. Bobby was used to these tics, these repetitive motions and actions. When you've known someone for so long, you get used to them. It would be weird if Scott _wasn't_ doing it. "I keep training, every day and I'm not getting better. I'll never be better. These kids need to be better, Bobby. Better than I could never be. Better than I could ever hope to be. They have to because if they don't, mutants will die. Bobby, mutants will die, they'll die. Bobby, mutants will die, they'll die. Bobby, mutants will die, they'll die. Bobby, mutants will die, they'll die. Bobby mutants will die, they'll-"

"Scott," Bobby interrupted, grabbing a hold of his hand. "Breathe. You're okay. I understand what you're trying to say."

"-die," he finished, a shaky breath leaving him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise; I know you can't control it sometimes."

Scott shook his head, pain evident on his face. "No, Bobby. Not for that, but yes for that. For.. For everything. For arguing with Wolverine and arguing with Captain America. I had no right. I shouldn't have done that. I threatened mutankind even more with my words and actions. I just… wanted us to be safe. I just wanted mutants to have a utopia they could go to. That was the whole purpose of Utopia. We were supposed to be safe there but those damn brats tore us apart. _I_ tore us apart. I'm not mad you left Utopia, Bobby. Looking back at it, I would have done the same. I'm not mad at any of the people who left, not even Logan." He looked at Bobby, "It's my fault that mutants are even more feared and small in number. I don't know how to tell everyone that I'm sorry and it eats away at me every single day of my life."

"I've _tried_ to tell people, but none of them listen. It wasn't just me. I always get blamed even though Emma was controlled by the Phoenix Force as well. So was Piotr and Illyana and Namor. Why is all the blame placed on me? The Phoenix used all of us, but I always get the blame. I get the blame. I get the blame. I get the blame. I get the blame. I get the blame," he took another breath, balling his hands into fists and shoving them up under his glasses, rubbing. "Why just me though? Why am I mutant and human enemy number one? I didn't mean to do any of that. I got so lost inside of the Phoenix's power, Bobby. It was all an accident. It used me, just like it tried to use Jean. But unlike Jean, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't do it. And it took advantage of my desire to make mutants safe and it warped me, Bobby."

Bobby rubbed Scott's back, frowning. He hadn't ever thought about Scott suffering throughout all of that ordeal. "I just wanted to protect Hope. I couldn't lose her, too. I wanted to protect mutants. The Phoenix was our only hope of a brighter and better future and for so long, I thought I could bring that to the world. You know how hard I worked, Bobby. But the Phoenix ate away at me like a fire."

"Have you ever seen one of those fires that destroys the inside of the building without a flame ever licking at the outside? That's me, Bobby. I'm burnt and empty inside. The family photos in the attic have been charred and burnt. One wrong move and the inside will come tumbling down, pulling the seemingly okay outside with it. I look fine, Bobby. People think I'm fine if not a little crazy. They don't realise the damage is all inside until you take a look in there. It's a mess. Dishes in the sink, cracked from the heat. There's a desk upstairs that a kid used to do his homework at, but his homework was burnt to ash by the fire and now the desk is nothing more than a black chunk of charcoal. Everything inside of the house has been destroyed but it's somehow still standing. But no matter how nice it looks on the outside, it's going to have to be torn down if they ever want to build a new one. But if you destroy that house and build a new one, you lose everything that house ever was. I'm that house, Bobby. I'm _empty_."

"And I'm sorry."

Bobby looked at Scott with wide, watery eyes. He had never expected to hear such an apology from Scott and now that he had, all the guilt inside of him was hungrier than ever. "Scott," he started, voice cracking. He could see the tears escaping from underneath Scott's fists and his stomach twisted. "Scott, it's okay," he said softly. "I… I forgive you. I'm not mad at you, and I never was, Scott. Upset, yes. But I knew there was something in there that was doing what they thought was good, thought was right."

He heard Scott suck in a wet, shaky breath. Bobby stood up and looked up and down the hallway before shutting the door. He knelt in front of Scott and pulled his arms down. "I'm not saying what you did was okay, Scott. But I'm saying I understand you. Please, look at me."

Scott did, his eyes wet behind his glasses. Bobby watched more tears run down his cheeks. "I'm glad we made it through this, maybe not okay, but alive. We're alive, Scott. And it's going to be okay because every time the world tries to wipe us out, we come back. We always come back, Scott. And it's up to us, you, me, Kitty, Logan, those young versions of us out there, to make it so we can keep coming back. We gotta keep doing this, this fighting, this struggling, so that someday, no one else has to. We're all damaged buildings, Scott, some of us worse than others, some of us damaged by tenants, some of us damaged by owners. But we're all damaged buildings that just gotta hope they keep on standing for as long as they can because for someone, we're their shelter. We're their home." He smiled and he saw the corners of Scott's mouth tug up.

"Sure, no one wants to sleep in a house with no insulation and is a constant freezing degrees, but someone needs me. To someone, I'm the best goddamn house on the market simply because I am one. And Scott, there's someone that needs a house, even if it smells like burnt wood and is still a little hot to the touch. You offer shelter that someone will appreciate." Scott let out a shaky breath, the air hot on Bobby's face.

"I know that what you were doing is what you thought was the right thing to do, Scott," Bobby said as he leaned forward, pressing a chaste, tentative kiss on Scott's mouth. He kissed back after a second, careful and scared.

A few days later and Cyclops was dead.


	5. Scott x Bobby

**Scott and Bobby annoying Hank because he walks in on naked snuggles?**  
 **So it's more Bobby annoying Hank than Scott because I honestly couldn't see Scott doing anything like that.**

Hank brought his hands up to his face, crying out in horror. He turned on his heels and slammed the door shut behind him. He could hear, from the other side of the door, one of the occupants laughing nervously and the other swearing. A few thumps and curses went by before the door opened, Scott nervously peering at Hank from behind his glasses. He had struggled to pull a shirt on, thus causing it to be backwards. He was in briefs. His cheeks were bright red and he looked like he was about to vomit. Scott brushed his hair out of his face, one, two, three, four, five times before taking a deep breath. "Please don't tell anyone."

Hank took a deep breath, placing his abnormally large hand on Scott's shoulder. "You've gotten me sworn to secrecy, but… please. Never subject me to sights like that again. I do not think I will ever be able to properly cleanse my brain of that moment."

Scott slumped in relief, a sigh leaving him. "Oh thank god, Hank. You are a great friend. And I am so, so sorry. Bobby said he locked the door and I didn't even think– I am so sorry."

Hank shook his head, cheeks still red from everything. "No, no, I'm sorry. I should have knocked. Have fun doing… whatever that was. I'm going to go study until all I can see are numbers and not… naked… bodies."

Bobby let out a snort from behind Scott, the sheet from their bed pulled up around his waist, but that alone being the only thing covering him. "Jeez, Hank. Stumbling across naked bodies would be a godsend, don't you think?"

"Not when it's your naked body," he snapped back, face turning red again as he hurried away, head in hands.

Scott turned to Bobby who was smiling a large, toothy grin. "No, don't even think about," Scott ordered. Bobby's smile only grew wider as he pulled Scott into the room, nuzzling his neck. "Leave poor Hank alone," he said, fingers dancing up Bobby's spine.

"Oh, you know I could never do that," Bobby laughed. "It's too against my nature. He's never going to live this down."

"That means we won't either," Scott countered, making a small noise when Bobby leaned up to nibble on his ear.

"Yeah, but Hank is one to keep his promises; he won't tell anyone. Now come on, I think we were kissing before someone walked in on us and I'd really like to do that some more." He reached behind Scott and locked the door. "And this time, I really did lock the door."

Hank was concentrating on a set of logarithms that could possibly help get the original X-men back to the past. He heard footsteps but he was so concerned about his studies that they didn't register until a cold hand landed on his shoulder. "Hank, buddy, chill." Bobby snickered at his own bad joke. Hank turned to glare at him but found the expression was only half-hearted. "I just wanted to thank you for earlier, you know?"

Hank sighed. "Bobby, what you and Scott do is none of my business–"

"No. It's not. But, we come from a time where… where what Scott and I were doing wasn't really okay and you just accepted us."

"Bobby I'm sure you would have frozen me solid if I didn't."

Bobby laughed, slinging his arm around Hank's shoulder and peering at the math in front of him. "Nah, but it would have sucked to go back home and have you hate me because of it…" He stopped. "Think the professor knows I'm gay?"

Hank shrugged, trying to focus back on the math with Bobby there was like trying to keep Pickles away from pizza. Impossible. "Bobby, you're my friend and I really appreciate you coming in here to thank me and all but I'm–"

"Really busy, yeah Scott said the same thing. Which is why he'll probably be here in a few moments to yell at me for annoying you." He pointed at something, frowning. "That's not right," he said. "Those numbers aren't right."

Hank rolled his eyes. "Bobby, I'm the mathematical genius here, I'm certain that… oh… They aren't."

Bobby smiled. "See! I'm not as stupid as everyone assumes I am. I took some pretty advanced math classes back before joining the X-men." He shrugged. "And over there, shouldn't that be log of x not log of y?"

Hank muttered under his breath as he reviewed the work Bobby was pointing at. His eyes narrowed and he turned back to Bobby. He opened his mouth to say something when Scott came walking in, frowning. "Bobby, I told you to leave Hank alone. He's working on important stuff."

Bobby shrugged and pulled away from Hank, wrapping his arms around Scott's waist. "Alright, fine, you win. Let's go somewhere else and leave Hank alone with his work." He winked at Hank from behind Scott. "I'm sure he doesn't want my help anyways."

They left and Hank stared at the door with utter disbelief on his face.

 **If you didn't figure it out, Bobby decided his revenge for Hank not knocking was that he was going to find the errors in Hank's work and then not help him past that. He likes living in this time bc he gets to have naked cuddling with Scott. Sorry it's not the best, I've been stressing but I really needed this fluff**


	6. ScottBobby lingering touches

**Bobby has a bit of an idle touch thing, rubbing Scott's leg during meetings, wrapping an arm around him, snuggling him from behind. That kind of thing.**

The first time Bobby touched him outside of a quick hung or an arm over his shoulder, Scott's leg was bouncing erratically underneath the table while they were being briefed on a how the Sentinels were attacking predominantly mutant-based communities. His heart was thumping hard in his chest and he was so scared by that news, that he couldn't stop the bouncing of his leg. Bobby had reached over and placed his hand on Scott's knee, causing him to stop and turn to him. "It's alright, Scott," he mouth, smiling. He gave Scott's knee a slight squeeze like he was ready to pull his hand away but he never did. They sat in the briefing room like that, Bobby's hand on Scott's knee.

Bobby was a touchy-feely kind of guy; that was something you learned quickly. Scott had known for years now, and was no longer as offput by his behaviour like he had been when the institute was first opened. Seeing the way people's eyes would widen or their shoulders would tense when Bobby threw his arm around their shoulders for the first time always made Scott want to laugh. He knew what they were all thinking. Bobby was _freezing_. It made sense, however. Bobby was made of ice half of the time.

You'd think, with Bobby being so cold, Scott would flinch away from his touch even to this day. Instead, Scott just accepted it, trying to ignore the unusual warmth that spread in his chest when Bobby touched him. He liked the way Bobby's arm would just lay there, as if the wrong move would make it fall down. It never did, though, and they could walk for quite a distance before Bobby would let his arm swing back down.

The first time they kissed, it was because Scott was having an anxiety attack in his bedroom. None of the telepaths had been home and everything inside of Scott bubbled out. Bobby had found him, curled up in a ball in the corner of his closet, sobbing. Scott's chest was so heavy and his throat hurt, but he couldn't calm down. Bobby had knelt beside him and tugged him out of the closet, worry evident in his voice. Bobby sat there and talked him out of his panicked state, all the while, a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles. After about an hour, Bobby had went to stand and Scott didn't want him to pull away. He tugged Bobby back down and kissed him. The way Bobby's hand went behind his head and cupped the base of Scott's head was probably the best feeling Scott ever had. They kissed in that awkward position for a few moments before pulling apart.

They were in bed together. Scott was sitting up, reading a book and Bobby was playing a game on his cellphone. He swore and tossed his phone down as the sounds of failure chimed from it. Scott saw him in his peripherals looking at him. He grunted when Bobby wrapped his arms around him, warm skin meeting cold skin and nerves jumping at the difference. They stayed like that as Scott read, a small smile tugging at his lips when he heard Bobby softly snoring into the small of his back.

Bobby has a lingering touch, and Scott's learned to accept that fact. In fact, he's come to love that the most about Bobby. Because, when Scott needs to be shown that there is still good in the world, all Bobby has to do is settle that bouncing knee.


	7. Parent Scott x Bobby

**Scott accidentally adopts a child and Bobby has to deal with this.**

Utopia was a bustling island of the few remaining mutants in the world. The older mutants who had a better grasp on their powers were spread thin already as it was, taking care of the children, teaching them, training them. Bobby was up in the air, flying backwards after one of the students had use a sonic type of power on him. He closed his eyes, sighing as he flew away. "Just one day," he sighed, "I'd love to not be sent flying just one day." He made an ice ramp that slowed him down enough for him to regain control. He made an ice slide back down to his students where the girl who had clapped her hands and sent Bobby on his journey was getting pats on the backs and careful fist bumps. He smiled, because he really was proud of her for getting her abilities so controlled.

However, the spot her sonic abilities had really hit him at was beginning to throb and he knew he'd have a horrible bruise when he took his shower later tonight. "Great job, kids," he said, smiling wider, because he really, _really_ was proud of all the kids. They were all working so hard. He dismissed them and watched them run off, some of them in groups, others alone. Some laughed, others talked, and others seemed to become lost in thought. Ever since the sudden drop in mutants and the lack of more being born, Bobby had begun to really focus on each and every single one of his students. Sometimes, thought, taking care of thirty-some-odd kids without help was difficult.

He made his way down to the docks were Scott should be coming in soon, the sun was setting over the horizon, sending an array of fiery colours across the water, staining it like paint on a canvas. Bobby allowed his mind to wander and almost didn't notice the boat coming closer. At first it was a black silhouette against the splash of emotion in the sea and in the sky, but it slowly became more than a thought and took form and sound. Bobby smiled when he saw Scott leaning over the rail, waving to him. Despite the sudden decrease in mutants and the lack of new mutant births, they were still finding new mutants in every crevice of the world, unaffected by the Scarlet Witch's decision. They were a small population of about two-hundred now, but that didn't mean their survival wasn't threatened by outside forces constantly. Scott and the others were constantly out in the real world, trying to fix things that weren't quite broken and break things that weren't quite together.

Scott stepped off the boat once it docked, a small mutant trailing behind him. "Bobby, I'd like you to meet Dill." Bobby looked at the child, heart squeezing. His skin was green and covered in bumps of varying sizes, some as small as moles and some as large as silver dollars. He reminded Bobby of a pickle. His eyes were dark green as well, surrounded by an almost surreal whiteness. He had no black in his eyes, no pupil. He stepped out from behind Scott shyly, giving Bobby a tentative, hopeful smile. "We found Dill in downtown Seattle. He doesn't much care for flying so we opted to take the boat back."

Bobby knelt down, holding out his hand and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Dill." Dill took his hand and gently shook it. His skin almost felt like scales. "Welcome to Utopia. You'll love it here." Bobby stood and smiled at Scott. "Why don't you go relax," he suggested, "I'll find Dill a room and introduce him to the students."

Scott smiled sheepishly. "Well, see, here's the problem." He laughed nervously, "Dill really took a liking to me and he kind of might be calling me Dad."

Bobby just stared at Scott with a look of disbelief, eyebrows drawn together and mouth slack. "You're telling me… that you just… accidentally adopted a child?"

Bobby ran his hands over his face, groaning slightly. Dill was sleeping in the arm chair in the room he shared with Scott. The kid was cute, he could say that much, but still… Scott just adopted a child without even consulting him. "How do you accidentally adopt a child?" He turned to face Scott who was reading a book in their bed. He raised an eyebrow over his glasses before shrugging. "No, seriously. Scott. How did this happen? What are we going to do with him?"

Scott sighed and set his book down. "Bobby, it's not that big of a deal. We practically adopted every single child here on Utopia; you never complained about me bringing a kid home before."

"Well that's because none of them were calling you _Dad_." He threw his hands into the air and forced himself not to groan loudly. He didn't want to wake up Dill and he didn't want the kid to think he didn't like him.

"He's just been calling me Dad and that's it." Scott played with a thread on the blanket and worried his lip. "You don't have… you don't have to think of him like your kid if you don't want to, Bobby."

Bobby slumped, a sound leaving him that wasn't quite a sigh and wasn't quite a cry. "Scott, don't… don't do that. Don't…" He sat on the bed, looking over at Dill was sleeping so peacefully. "Tell me how this happened, _please_ "

Scott shifted and turned to look over at Dill. "He was living in an orphanage. One of the few people not affected by Wanda's magic." Orphan, the magic word that always tugged at Scott's heartstrings. "I saw him in the courtyard when the kids were playing and I knew it wasn't some medical mutation but instead one of _our_ kinds of mutations. I went into the orphanage and asked… I asked to meet some children because I was thinking on adopting." He sighed, leaning back. "They took me through every single child eligible except for him. When we were done, I was sitting there and they were asking me what I had thought about the children and if I had made a decision and…" He rubbed his face with his hands, groaning. "I asked them where he was. I said 'I want to see the child that's green,' and they looked at each other with so much worry and… disgust." Scott sounded angry. His jaw twitched and he balled up his fists.

"And when they brought him out, the… the fucking caretaker wouldn't even look at him. And they said that they didn't know why I would want him but that his names was fucking-" He took a deep, angry breath. "They said that he had been there for eight years and according to their physician, he was only eight. He just showed up on their doorstep one night with a note and it… it fucking… It said," Scott's hands were shaking and he was red in the cheeks. "It said 'we don't want him and no one would. Do with him whatever you have to do' and they told me his name was Dill because... " He looked over at him. "Well, you're no idiot, Bobby, you can figure that part out on your own."

Bobby felt his heart sink into his stomach. That was such a horrible thing to hear. "So I… I couldn't help it. I asked how much it would cost to adopt him and they… They didn't even ask for clearances they were just so happy to have him out of their hands and they were practically cheering. I couldn't help it, Bobby. They wouldn't just let me take him, even though they didn't _want_ him. They wanted their payoff." He let out a tense breath. "So I adopted him and my God, Bobby, you should have seen the way his eyes were lighting up and he was so excited to go get his stuff and to come home with me. And he was saying how happy he was to finally have a dad and he couldn't wait to make friends and that he could finally have his own room and he'd live with people that wouldn't make fun of him. Bobby, I've never been so moved by something I've done. He's so happy with a dad now and I don't regret it."

Bobby laughed lightly, leaning over Scott to kiss him. "Oh my god, you bleeding heart. I'm not mad at you. I never was, I just… Just didn't know how you _accidentally_ adopted a child. Fine, be his dad, but I get to be the super cool dad. Gettit? Cool? Because I'm ice?"

Scott groaned, laughing. "Shut up, Bobby." They laid there, tangled in each other, savouring the moments of happiness they were granted so kindly by the world. "Do you think he'll be happy here?" Scott frowned, running his fingers through Bobby's hair.

"I think he'll be happier once he starts to make some friends and has his own room." He rested his head on Scott's chest, letting the worried fingers pull knots out of his hair. "Come one, what are you worried about? We have people here with blue fur, scales, four eyes, blue skin, green skin, purple skin, people who have snakes for hair, and people with tentacles. He'll fit in fine. He'll make friends. And, if anyone gives him any shit, he's got two dads to back him up."

Scott smiled and to Bobby, it was more beautiful than any painting done by Van Gogh or Monet or Picasso or Da Vinci or anyone else in the world. It was more beautiful than the sun setting over the sea. More beautiful than dew drops on grass in the misty early mornings before the sun has risen and the sky was a comforting grey. The beauty was devastating and Bobby didn't think he would ever stop finding that smile beautiful, but they were mutants, and of course, something bad always had to happen to mutants.

It wasn't long before Scott was embracing the Phoenix and Bobby was snatching Dill into his arms, swearing at Scott and running to the Blackbird, trying so hard to get Dill away from the evil that had suddenly become Scott. The evil that was killing and destroying everything every single one of them had ever worked for.

Of course, that hadn't happened yet, so Bobby was blissfully unaware. Blissfully ignorant and in love.


	8. No Pairing Scott and Bobby

**Although one of Bobby's favourite pranks is freezing people's food, he doesn't tend to do it with Scott. Mostly because Scott's response is just sadly tapping the ice, but also because he remembers him being underfed.**

It was so funny the first time Bobby had frozen someone's food. It had been Hank's. The table had erupted into laughter as Hank spat out the ice cube that was once his bite of cereal. He scowled at Bobby who had been howling with laughter, tears going down his face. After a moment of everyone else laughing, Hank finally let in and laughed as well. Bobby didn't do it too often because he knew if he did it all the time, he'd either get in trouble or lose the magical touch of it.

The second time he did it, however, it wasn't as funny. Scott had been taking a drink of Coke and frowned when he looked back down to a chunk of ice on his plate. In the center of the ice was his food, a plate of spaghetti. He took his fork and stabbed at it, a solemn kind of sadness on his face. Everyone else was laughing, even Rogue, so Bobby thought nothing of it at first. It wasn't until after dinner when Bobby realised Scott had never gotten a new helping and instead scraped the ice chunk into the garbage. Professor Xavier had pulled Bobby aside later that night and had a serious talk with him.

A few months later, and Bobby had almost forgotten what Xavier had told him. He had frozen Scott's food again and while the table was laughing, Bobby stopped and remembered. His stomach sank as he watched Scott poke at the food and he realised now that the solemn sadness was more than that. There were horrible memories going through Scott's head and he was probably fighting back tears. Bobby had never felt so disgusted with himself in that moment and he really wished that Evan down the table would stop laughing. He really wanted to tell everyone to shut up, that it wasn't funny, Idie! You should be ashamed, Dazzler! His chest felt tight and he knew if someone tried to ask him what was wrong, he would probably start crying. Later that night, he went up to Scott and apologised without giving away just how much he really knew.

He went to bed that night, stomach tight with guilt. He hadn't been able to finish his meal knowing Scott wouldn't be finishing his. He dreamt of Scott when they first met, unbelievably skinny and unbelievably shy. He dreamt of Scott trying to eat his only meal of the day back in the orphanage and him coming along and freezing every bite that Scott tried to eat. He dreamt of days the orphanage didn't give Scott any food and he resorted to sucking on ice cubes to curb the hunger pangs.

When Bobby woke up, he felt worse than ever and he knew he had to apologise to Scott again. He walked down the hallway and knocked on Scott's door. When Scott opened it, he looked just as haggard as Bobby felt. Swallowing his compulsion to crack a joke and then scurry away, Bobby put his hand on Scott's shoulder. "I'm really sorry about last night," he forced out. "Let's go get something to eat. I want… I want to make sure you eat because… what I did wasn't right and… I guess I forgot all about how it was when you first showed up and I'm sorry. No one should be deprived a meal."

Scott's smile was all the thanks Bobby had ever needed.


	9. Laura x Scott

**A fic about Laura for X23 Maximoff. It ended up becoming a Scott x Laura because well... I'm trash.**

Scott was surprised to see the girl they had brought back looking… normal. Her skin had grown back and her hair was long, she didn't even have scars. Scott was leaning against the doorway, curious eyes behind his glasses when she woke up, screaming and yelling. She looked absolutely normal, despite the frantic panic. When she calmed down, Scott walked over to her, his hands up in a peaceful gesture.

"Y-you look… you look very nice," he said, mentally punching himself. "I mean, for someone who was just missing most of their skin, you look highly presentable." _Fucking-a, Summers. Shut up_.

She scowled at him, no trust in her eyes, and actually growled a little bit. Scott swallowed and kept his hands up. "Listen, I just.. I just want to talk to you. You're somewhere safe. My name is Scott Summers-"

"Cyclops!" She stood up, metal claws sliding out her knuckles and Scott suddenly felt really queasy. "You're Cyclops! You're the one who did this to all of us!"

He back away as she took a step toward him. "N-No, I mean, yes! But I'm not _him_. I'm him from the past, before he became… himself." His heart was pounding in his chest. "I haven't killed anyone or started any mutant genocides, I swear. I'm just Scott Summers."

She stepped closer to him, scowling fiercely. He swallowed hard and felt his head getting light. "And we just saved your life, so I'd appreciate it if you spared mine."

She spat. "If there's no Scott Summers, then there's no Cyclops."

Scott was itching at his leg under his cast with a ruler, thankful that they were still something that existed in this time. Laura had been pacing around the safe house for the past few hours, pissed that Warren had flown off somewhere even though he technically _had_ asked if anyone wanted to join him.

She was driving Scott insane and it was already bad enough to be driven crazy by an itch you can't quite sedate, he didn't need her to be an itch in his brain. "Laura," he called out to her. She entered the room, scowling fiercely, her hair in disarray. "Y-you look… you look very nice," Scott forced out past a snort.

"Shut the fuck up, Scott. What do you want."

"I have a list of missions here," he began. It didn't take very long for him to convince her to run off and play hero.

Scott was standing, waiting, nervously messing with the bottom of his sleeve. The music started and he felt his chest grow tight. Right now, he'd love to be anywhere else because he was never the type of person to enjoy having all eyes on him. Laura walked past everyone and up to him. He could tell she was scowling underneath her forced smile, he could tell by the way her eyes looked like she was in pain and her jaw was firm. "Y-you look… you look very nice," he forced out, despite the way his mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. She really did look nice.

The dress she was wearing was long and form fitting, white with lacy patterns of flowers down the sleeves and her chest. She was holding a bouquet of red flowers. "Thanks," she breathed, the tension in her shoulders leaving some and the clenched tension in her jaw diminishing. "I hate having all eyes on me," she admitted. "I feel like prey."

"Same," Scott breathed, chest expanding. Laura was so beautiful and today, he got to really appreciate that beauty. Today, they got married.


	10. No Pairing - Laura

**For X23 Maximoff**

Warren was flying high overhead, a blot of darkness against the sun. Laura tugged at the hem of her dress in discomfort as she looked out the window, finding reassurance that Warren was no more than a few seconds away. She turned her attention back on the large, sweating man in the front of the room. He was dressed in a suit, a white, sweat stained handkerchief in his back pocket.

He was talking to the group of exceptionally well dressed people, all of them insanely wealthy. He coughed into his handkerchief before wiping away beads of sweat on his brow. Laura's stomach churned in disgust. His voice was raspy and distorted, as if he was talking around a mouthful of food, which- based off his appearance- he very well might be. Laura herself was in a red gown, a long slit up the side on her left which exposed most of the skin on her leg. It was tight fitting and made her feel like a piece of meat when all of the men in the room ogled her breasts. Her hair had been done into tight curls, making her look older and more sophisticated than she normally did. In her hand was a bidding paddle.

"Now, m'ladies and gentlemen," the man said, voice grating on Laura's ears. "We haf come to the very special part of tonight's events. The auction." Laura suppressed her shudder as the people around her all suddenly seemed excited. "Tonight's main piece is a ver' special one. A child, aught but th'age of twelf. A young girl, she is indeed. But she ain't no ordinary girl, mark m'words." The curtain behind him opened to reveal a cage. Inside, was a small, frail little girl. Her skin was a vibrant lilac colour and her joints seemed to be plated with something. She was huddled in the center of her cage, her long black hair the only thing covering her body. Laura felt her stomach churn in anger. "She's onaf them mutants. But she special. This lil' girl here can make yer wildest dreams come true." The cage was pushed forward, the girl curling in tighter on herself.

"Her mutant abilities are ver' simple. You tell her ta do somethin' and she does it. We don't know how it works, but you tell her ta bring you a golden egg, an' she can't help but do it. Anythin' an' everthin' you coulda wish fer, she makes it come true." He coughed again before turning to the little girl. "Isn't that right, sweet thing?" Laura knew she had only heard it because of her exceptional hearing, but it didn't make that any better. Waves of anger and hatred were coming off of her. This man was disgusting. He turned back to the group. "We will start the biddin' at half a million."

People began to stick their paddles up in the air, the price people were willing to pay kept going up and up. Before long, the price was almost at one million, and people were beginning to slow down. Laura knew she

would have to bid soon or else the girl would be taken by someone else.

She remembered what Scott had told her before they started preparing her for the mission.

" _You don't have to do this if you're scared. We can always send someone else."_

" _I'm not scared, one-eye. It's just… I'm not good with my people-skills, you all know that." She shifted as Idie continued to curl her hair. "I get it, I'm gonna look the least suspicious to these assholes. I'm gonna look weak and vulnerable and that's what we need. But we still need someone who can hold their own. That's why you aren't sending someone like Idie or Bobby, not that they can't hold their own and not that they look weak," she said quickly, hoping Idie wasn't offended._

 _The younger girl just laughed. "You need someone who can get shot a few hundred times but still walk out of there with the kid unharmed. That's why Warren can't go alone and just swoop in and grab the kid. You need someone like me. I'm not scared, just… angry. I'm angry that missions like this even exist. I'd much rather be sent to someone goblin hell-hole and fight evil versions of everyone here. I'd rather be pushed out of an airplane and land right inside a village of cannibals. You feel? Physical pain isn't anything to me. It's when I've got to see_ kids _chained up, caged up, being bidded on like they're objects is when I get upset. I'm not scared, I'm angry."_

Warren's signal to come in would be when Laura rose her paddle, and she was praying to everything she didn't believe in that he would be here fast enough.

"Have we got anyone willing to beat two-point-seven million? A-going once, a-going twice, a-going-"

Laura raised her paddle. "Three million," she said, hoping it didn't come off as a bluff. The man who had just been about to win the girl scowled and raised his own paddle.

"Three-point-five million."

Laura looked out of her peripherals for Warren, a scowl crossing her own face. She raised her paddle again. "Four million."

"Lady, you weren't so interested in her until I almost had her. Now why don't you let men do their business and pull back your bid? Five million," The man stood, greasy hair slicked back and his mustache obviously waxed.

Laura stood in retaliation. "Want to see real business?" She struggled to keep herself composed. "Six million," she shouted at the man in the front.

"Sev-" Warren came crashing through the window, swearing.

He straightened himself up, wings blazing and licking at the air around him. "How about we drop all of the bids and the girl comes with me?" People were screaming and running away from Warren. A group of men reached into their shirts, ready to pull out guns. Laura and the greasy-haired man ran toward the girl.

"She's mine," he cried out, "I gave the final bid! Seven million dollars!"

"Sorry," Laura snarled, "but seven million dollars and I wouldn't even give you a lock of her hair." Laura let her claws slide out, grateful that Warren was handling the men with the guns. The greasy haired man in front of her gasped and spat at her.

"Disgusting mutant!" He reached for a gun as Laura sliced at the cage bars. He shot her and she grunted, feeling the blooming pain in her side. The little girl was crying.

"Sorry, buddy," Laura said as she turned to the man who stood there with a look of pure horror on his face. "Guns just don't do it for me." She kicked him, sending him tumbling down off the platform. She reached into the cage and reached for the girl who flinched away. "Yeah, I don't so much like strangers grabbing at me either. But unless you want lardo over there to continue having his way with you, you're gonna want to come with me, kid."

She turned to face Laura. There were dark purple lines on her face, in swirling patterns. Her eyes were almost completely white, small purple circles in the center moving to look over Laura's face. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Laura's neck. Laura stood up, supporting the girl.

"Angel! Let's get out of here!" Warren scooped them both into his arms, grunting slightly as they jumped out the window. They flew away from the building, the fast air cold on Laura's face.

Warren yelled over the wind, "Think she'll be okay?"

"She'll be just as fine as any of us," Laura yelled back. "That is, if any of us are even fine at this point."


	11. Past Laura x Warren

**For X23 Maximoff**

I woke up and you were gone. The bed was cold like you hadn't been there for a while, and I guess you hadn't. Because the last time we laid in a bed together had been months ago. Yet I woke up every morning expecting you to be there. I sat up and looked around the room but I knew that you weren't going to come walking in, complaining about how everyone always had to use the bathroom at the same time. I knew I wasn't going to comb my fingers through your hair, which had been getting long but I wasn't complaining because it was so soft and pretty. I wasn't going to help you preen your wings anymore because there were no wings to preen. You had given them up for wings of fire that you could turn on and off and maybe that was the moment I knew I was losing you but I wasn't going to lose you without a fight.

I woke up and you were gone, standing at the window. The moonlight lit you up just enough for me to see that you had your eyes shut and that you were frowning. It wasn't the first night that this had happened, but it was the last. Because the next morning was the first of many that you left my bed cold. I got out of the bed that night and walked over to you. I knew you heard me because I wasn't trying to be quiet. When I wrapped my arms around you, you didn't lean into the hug, you didn't turn to face me. We stood like that until the sun came up and life started in the school. You pulled away and began to get dressed.

I woke up and you were gone. We had just made up, forgiving each other for our petty fighting. Yet, when I woke up, you weren't there. My heart pounded hard against my rib cage and I couldn't believe I had let someone hurt me so badly. I shuffled downstairs, not wanting to face the day without you because the days that I really hadn't had you had been so hard. When I got downstairs, I almost ran into you and ended up hugging you, spilling a hot cup of coffee all over myself but I hadn't cared. Because you hadn't actually left and in that moment of my weakness, I missed that you didn't hug me back, that you hadn't fussed over the burn like you normally would have.

I woke up and you were gone. You were pulled in on yourself against the wall beside me. I woke up screaming, feeling like every part of my body had just been put through a meat grinder. Yet you looked like the one who was truly suffering. Tears stained your beautiful cheeks, flushed with red, raw emotion. Your blue eyes were so broken and horrified and I knew, right then and there, that it was because of me. I had caused you some kind of pain and I was feeling guilt, something so new and fresh to me. I felt sick but I fought it down. You told me that you were done, that you couldn't do it anymore. I didn't want to hear those words but I knew it was only fair. Because I never listened to you; I always rushed in head first. I was so stubborn and never tried to change for you because I honestly thought I could never be changed. I was so wrong about that. I didn't know that I had already changed so much because of you. I had changed because now I asked questions first and attacked second. I stopped trying to kill, I stopped being apprehensive of everybody I ever met. I stopped hating the world and when we would fly over the seas of the forests, I appreciated the beauty that there was. I didn't realise it in time, though, because you broke up with me and took those left those little changes behind as bitter reminders of the mistakes I had ever made.

I woke up and you were gone. You had run off into space with some cosmic forces. You had traded out your last remaining bits of humanity for wings made of fire, for a soul made of evil. I could smell the changes on you as soon as I saw you. Something was eating away at you from the inside out, burning you up and you were okay with it. Your wings burned bright and hot, but I didn't flinch away because I wasn't afraid of getting burnt. Maybe that was the problem with me. Even though I had been burnt time and time again, I was willing to be burnt by you because there was something inside of me that could only be sedated by you. Even if your wings were no longer feathers and instead fire that could be turned on and off by your own will, I craved you.

I woke up and you were gone. The beautiful angel I had fallen in love with and changed so much of myself for without ever realising I was changing had become a graceful form of death. You wings burned brighter and brighter every day but I watched a light in your eyes flicker and die. Whatever had been eating you from the inside had finally consumed the last bit of you and I watched you fly off.

I watched you fly off and never come back so that when I woke up you were gone.


	12. Laura

**For X23 Maximoff** 3

Laura did a back flip, her heel connecting with the under jaw of one of the people they were fighting. She swore loudly as she landed awkwardly, wiping sweat from her brow. She dodged away from another man, claws coming out and going through his arm. Laura kicked him away, watching him crumple onto the floor.

"That's two, Warren! How many are you at?"

Warren flew up into the air, dropping a limp body onto another man who groaned under the weight of his partner. "I didn't know we were keeping score," he called over the ruckus.

Laura laughed, accompanied by a laugh from Bobby a few feet away from her. "What kind of fight would this be if we weren't keeping score?" Laura took down another set of men. "I'm at three by the way!"

"Four!"

Behind her, Laura heard Scott huff, "you're all so childish, I swear to god."

Warren piped up, "just took out my fifth, just so you know."

"Yeah, Scott. But most of us are still kids. Gotta let us find the fun in things or we all might as well be middle-aged adults already," Bobby argued, his voice fading in and out as guns were fired.

Laura took down another soldier, the woman crying out when she saw the claws. Laura took that moment to attack someone else, bringing them down as well. "I'm at six!"

"Seven!"

"Four!"

Scott sighed, "fine. Eight."

By the time the fight was over, all of them were a little bit bloody and breathing hard. Everyone gathered around and made sure the area was clear. Laura took a deep breath and stretched, joints cracking. "So, what were everyone's final counts?"


	13. Past Warren x Laura

This is a bit of a continuation from "I woke up and you were gone"

Laura stood in her room, looking out her window. They were in the nerd-mobile of Hanks, but somehow also in a goddamn house. This window was the same window she stood at, arms wrapped around Warren, the night before he was gone. She hated how she had become a cliched teeanger, her feelings and emotions plagued her at night and filled her dreams with horrors.

She dreamt about Warren leaving, mainly. He had said he was going out to fly but then never came back, and she dreamt about that all the time. She envisioned him dying, alone and angry. Alone and scared. Her stomach twisted and she sighed, her breath fogging up the glass.

The others had all been so nice to her lately, but it only made her feel worse. She felt like they were treating her like a delicate, fragile thing. She was anything but. Of course Laura was sad that Warren had left, but she was used to it. She wasn't someone that was able to be loved for long. She always pushed them away and caused them to left.

"People like me don't get happy endings," she hissed at her reflection in the window.

She wanted to punch the sadness out of the eyes in her reflection. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum. Call her cliche but she had really thought Warren was her Prince Charming. Laura wanted so badly to believe that she had been worthy of love and adoration, worthy of someone staying in her life. She had been left behind so many times yet she had let herself become comfortable with having Warren around all the time. Laura fought back the tears that threatened to fall and swallowed down the lump in her throat.

She let her head fall onto the window and shut her eyes, wishing she could just go back to sleep and stop playing hero. She just didn't want to have this responsibility anymore. Being a runaway, constantly chased by the authority, felt so much more fitting for her. Laura just wasn't made for this superhero, always do the right thing, don't kill people kind of life. Yet she allowed herself to pretend it was for so long, because he was there with her. Because Warren had made her feel like she was allowed to be a good guy, made her feel like she was allowed to bring her defenses down and fall in love.

Then he just up and left her, but she guessed it had just been something bound to happen. It was something that had been building up for a long, long time. Ever since he came back with wings of fire, she had known she lost the real Warren. Her Prince Charming had been replaced by an imposter that wore his face and spoke with his voice, but his hands weren't as soothing, his kisses not as deep.

Her hands began to shake and she swore. Laura was so sick of how easily she got worked up. Warren had torn down all of her defenses and left her alone and exposed. "You were my goddamned Prince Charming," she spat at the window. "I let you come in and slip the glass slipper on my foot and sweep me away. I let you do all of this and then you just up and left me!" She hit the window, cracking the glass. "I hate you! You dirty bastard!" Laura was yelling now, the tears flowing over in anger and sadness. "I thought you would change my story but people like me don't get happy endings!" She hit the window again, shattering the glass. "I don't get happy endings," she screamed, "and you knew that! So why did you make me think I was going to get one!"

She heard the frantic footsteps of people running down the hall. Her heart hammered in her chest; she didn't want to deal with other people right now. Ignoring the fact that she was in shorts and a tank top and barefoot, she stepped over the glass on the floor and jumped out the window. She ran off, wiping away tears as she did so. She only glanced back to see Bobby hanging out her window, calling after her.

"People like me don't deserve happy endings."


	14. BobbyxRomeo-abusive onesided scottxbobby

**Prompt: Bobby dates a jerk. Scott gets defensive**

Bobby got home from his date, cheeks pink and eyes half-lidded, lazy with lust. Scott was waiting in the living room, a scowl on his face. He was tapping his fingers on the ruler he used to scratch at his leg underneath his cast. He didn't like Bobby's boyfriend, Romeo. Not at all. He didn't trust him, because Romeo was an Empath and could manipulate people's emotions. Scott just didn't trust him because of that; what if he was just manipulating Bobby? What if he seriously hurt Bobby?

This wasn't a possessive type of protection; Bobby was his friend. He told himself that time and time again. He wasn't jealous or envious. He was protective of his friend. Bobby walked into the living room, carefully biting his kiss-swollen lips and Scott had to fight back the anger that suddenly boiled up in his stomach. "How was your date?" He asked absently, trying to pay more attention to the itch under his cast than to the itch in his brain.

It took Bobby a second for the empty look in his eyes to disappear and answer Scott. "It was pretty nice," he answered, a faint hysteria in his tone. "Romeo's a real gentleman," he said, flopping down beside Scott. "Holds the doors and everything; treats me like the perfect lady." He laughed, snatching up the television remote and beginning to channel surf. "How was your date with the tv?

Scott scoffed, "boring. Hardly anything good on. Besides, my friend itchy leg kept me more company than it."

"Sorry your date was such a flop," Bobby laughed, settling on a movie from their real time, a crappy rom-com with equally crappy acting. Scott was more an action person.

They sat their in silence for a while, watching the protagonists dance around each other in their horrible attempts at getting together, often being set up by friends, only for the attempts to end… horribly. Bobby laughed a few times, curled up against the arm of the couch.

Scott's chest squeezed as he watched Bobby out of the corner of his eye. The empty look from his eyes was gone, a genuine sparkle filling them. His suspicions only grew more and were confirmed more after each and every date Bobby went on. "So, what's Romeo like?"

Bobby jumped slightly, before turning to look at Scott with a raised brow. "What? Why the interest?"

Scott fumbled for words, feeling his throat go tight and his chest cave in. "You're my friend Bobby. I'm just looking out for you."

"Gonna help me hook up with someone when we go back," he said, voice almost angry. He sounded accusatory.

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. He's great. Really thoughtful. Like I said, a real gentleman. Great kisser." Bobby sighed. "Look, I'm tired, I had a long night. I just wanted to watch a movie, but I think I'm going to head to bed."

* * *

There was a distinctive change in Bobby, Scott had noticed. He wasn't around as often, and when he was, he was fairly quiet. That wasn't like Bobby, to not joke and kid around. Pranks weren't a given anymore and as relieved as he should be, Scott was worried about Bobby.

That night, Bobby came home from his date. Like always, he was dazed, disgustingly happy, with his heavily-lidded eyes and brightly coloured cheeks. Scott didn't like that he knew, in about half an hour, that abundance of emotion would disappear, leaving Bobby dazed and unusual. Scott sat in silence, reading on his phone as Bobby watched a movie. When it was over, Bobby set his phone on the side table and mumbled something about grabbing a shower. Scott gave a noncommittal grunt, but as soon as he heard the water from the shower starting, he slide down the couch.

He ignored the pain that flashed up his spine as he grabbed Bobby's phone, unlocking it. He opened Bobby's messages and stared at Romeo's name for a long time, guilt eating away at him. He could lock the phone and set it down, pretend he never had it. Or he could open it and read their private messages. His stomach churned in agony. He opened the messages.

When Bobby got out of the shower, Scott was back in his seat, absently staring at the television, which was turned off. There was a hard set scowl on his face and he was playing with a loose thread on the arm of the couch, gritting his teeth. Bobby sat down and gave him a quizzical glance. "You alright over there, Scott?"

[We're going out tonight, dress nice.]

[I don't feel too well, can we set up a different date?]

[Bobby, I've already made reservations. You're coming on this date.]

[C'mon Romeo. My head is killing me. I promise, some other day.]

[You're coming on this date, end of debate.]

[Hey Romeo, hate to cancel, but the xmen have some business to take care of. I can't go out tomorrow]

[The fuck you can't. Tell them you made plans already.]

[Romeo, this is like, life/death level stuff.]

[You're my BOYFRIEND Bobby. You aren't canceling on me. Only I get to cancel.]

[Send me pics, Bobby, I'm bored and thinking about you.]

[I… I'm not comfortable doing that, Romeo.]

[Come on, it's not like anyone but us will see them.]

[Yeah, but I really… The thought of doing that… I'm not comfortable, Romeo. Please don't make me.]

[I can send you one first if that helps ;)]

[Um… no, it doesnt. Not really. Please, Romeo, dont make me…]

[Hey, Romeo… I think we should break up. I'm sorry. I'm just not as happy with you as I used to be. And my friends are starting to worry about me and… I really just need to figure myself out before I try to bring another person into. I'm really sorry.]

[WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE BREAKING UP WITH ME OVER TEXT?]

[I'm really sorry, Romeo. I just lose my nerve every time I try to tell you in person. I really am sorry.]

[No, fuck that. You're coming over here to explain yourself.]

[I can't Romeo.]

[Then I'm coming over there.]

{NO! Fine, fine. I'll come over]

[I love you so much, Bobby. Please never scare me like that again.]

[No worries… It won't ever happen again.]

[That's good. Because you know I only did what I had to, right? I had to show you how much I love you and how much you love me. And I didn't HURT you. I just showed you how much I love you.]

[I know. I love you too.]

Scott let out a heavy breath. "No, Bobby. I'm not alright. Because I feel like a huge fucking jerk doing this but… I think you should break up with Romeo."

Bobby's eyes flashed before hardening. He stood up. "Why? I… I don't understand why you think I should do that, Scott. Aren't you happy for me?""

Scott swallowed hard, "I am! I'm happy that you're embracing yourself in a way we never could back home, alright? I'm happy that you're learning to love who you are. But I'm not happy with who you're with. He's a jerk, Bobby."

Bobby sat back down on the couch, rubbing his arms like he was cold. He was quiet, a somber, pained expression on his face. Scott sat there, looking at him, his own body tense. He watched as Bobby swallowed a few times, his face hot in the cheeks. "You think I haven't figured that out, Scott?" He hugged himself tighter, a bitter laugh leaving him. Scott's heart ached. "At first, I was just… head over heels for him, you know? I was positive it was all me because even when he was gone I thought about him and shit. I knew at first, it wasn't because he was an Empath. But he got mean, he got rough, he got scary. And every time I tried to cut things off or end things, I wound up coming home, blissfully happy and unaware of what had happened. But at night, everything would come back and I knew after a while, he was just twisting around my emotions and using his own powers to… to keep me around." He laid his head back, looking so tired and aged. There were dark circles under his eyes and tears welling up. "I tried to break up with him once, when Evan and Idie got really worried and told they didn't trust him. My gut told me the same thing but I knew I couldn't do it in person." He laughed again, tears spilling over. "You should read some of the texts on my phone."

"I did," Scott breathed, scared to move in case Bobby got frightened or tried to leave.

"I'm not even mad. I've been leaving my phone out, hoping, hell, praying someone would pick it up and read what he's been doing and saying." More tears ran down his face, "I can't break up with him, though. If I do it over the phone again, he's going to come here. I don't know how strong he is. He could make us all love him so much that no one ever tries to break us up again."

"Has he been hurting you? Physically?" It pained Scott to even ask that question, his heart was hammering hard in his chest. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the truth, especially if it was the opposite than he thought.

Bobby turned his head to look at Scott, eyes watering and red. He nodded his head slightly, lips quivering. "I'm c-covered in bru-bruises…"

Scott clenched his jaw. "Listen, Bobby. Block his number. Don't go anywhere alone. Always have someone else with you. Always. We're going to end this. He's going to stop hurting you. Everyone will know that if they see this Romeo asshole, they are to keep him away from you. If he approaches you, we are allowed to clock him in the jaw." He scooted down the couch some, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "You're our friend, Bobby. None of us want to see you get hurt or be hurt." He turned his body awkwardly to cup Bobby's face, wiping at his tears. "I wish you would have told one of us sooner, Bobby. Because trust me, he's going to pay for hurting you."

 ** _As a side note, I know very little about Romeo's character. I based this solely off the fact that he can manipulate people's feelings and that every cute guy named Romeo ends up being more trouble than they're worth. Also, I'm not going to call out the person, but I'd highly appreciate it if you stopped harassing me to do your prompt. If it continues, I will not write it for you. I am taking time out of my day to write these stories and as much as I enjoy doing so, I do not enjoy being pestered and told that my take on things are wrong. You will get your prompt written out. Patience is a virtue._**


	15. Self-Promotion

I want to take this moment to self promote myself, lmao.

Please go to archiveofourown works /8480752 /chapters /19846012 and view the pieces of art I have done for X-men based off of the following Lyrics from Halsey's song Colors. To view more of my art, please go to my tumblr account, h311agay. tumblr tagged/ my art

The main reason I'm doing this is because chapter 15 on my archive of our own account where I'm also uploading this fic consists of these pictures and I want to keep my fics relatively the same, even if word count is not the same.

Thank you!


	16. Bobby x Warren

**from notfromarizona on tumblr: Who cares what characters I just want to read it: A walk in the forest when the moon is really bright (no unnatural sources of light), the line "Do penguins cry?", a reference to the live action Scooby-Doo movie, club-hopping (but only because of morbid curiosity), an argument whether or not black lives matter, one of the boys gets a nosebleed, sickeningly cute babying of the 'top', ends with them in bed (smut or no smut idc), someone breaks a fingernail and we all have to endure them complaining**

 **You'll find random spots where (number) happens. That was me making a check list of each requirement. If I missed on, let me know.**

It wasn't easy to find a place out in the country where no lights reached the sky. Light polution was everywhere in this time, creeping at the edges of the sky in hues of oranges and purples, blotting out the stars and dimming the moon. By the time Warren found a suitable place, Bobby's armpits had begun to ache from being held up in the air for so long. They lay in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania, the only sound being crickets and a river they had passed a few miles back itching in their minds.

Warren took a few moments to find a comfortable way to lay on his back so he could look up at the stars before he gestured Bobby to come over. Bobby curled up in the nook of his arm, the soft tickle of feathers on his neck. "This okay," he whispered, not wanting to ruin the quiet air with his voice. Warren hummed in approval, tugging Bobby a little closer. He radiated a type of warmth that Bobby's body no longer gave off. Bobby looked up at the sky, finding awe in how large the moon was tonight, it's silver light radiating out and reaching their own bodies, casting them in silver. It was so bright, like a brand new coin. They lay like that in the silence for a while, content in the presence of each other.

"Do penguins cry?" (1)

Warren shifted, turning to look at Bobby who glanced up as if he didn't understand the sudden movement. "What?" Warren's voice barely concealed a laugh.

"Do penguins cry," Bobby repeated, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You can never just let things be romantic, can you? Ask Hank when we get back, I'm sure he knows."

"Hocus pocus alakazam, save us from that evil man, with hairy legs and heavy feet, he cracks up, baby, as he creeks (2)," Bobby sang, the smile growing as he pulled himself up onto Warren's chest, fingers tracing the lines of his body.

"Huh?" Bobby could feel Warren twitch and shiver under his touch.

"Oh, um... It's a song. I was watching a movie the other day and I heard that song, Man With the Hex, on it. Made me think of Hank. You know, 'cause he's hairy and... has big feet."

Warren laughed, tugging Bobby down for a kiss. "Let's go to New York. I hear they have mutant clubs, where it's just packed with mutants."

Bobby grinned, heart fluttering. "Yeah!"

Warren stood, tugging Bobby against his chest before pushing off of the ground hard, wings propelling them up into the air. They flew to New York, the bright lights dazzling them from below. Bobby pulled out his phone and read the GPS aloud to Warren, who flew them where they needed to go. They touched down, flashing the fake ID's Hank had made them so they could get into restricted areas. It displayed whatever they needed them to. Bobby didn't think that Hank had clubbing in mind when he created them, but they worked like a charm and Bobby and Warren were ushered in.

The mass of people was crazy. Bobby marvelled at the amount of mutants that had started popping up ever since they arrived; he was even more amazed by the fact that there were whole clubs dedicated to mutants. Warren and him danced for hours, hopping from one club to another (3), drinking, getting drunk, grinding on the dance floor. At one point, they were sitting at the bar, laughing with each other when they heard an angry shout from someone not too far from them.

Bobby turned to look, seeing a darker man with blonde hair in the face of a paler man with dark hair. "What the hell did you say to me, you fucking degenerate?" The other guy mumbled something under his breath, not making eye contact with the angry man, spikes coming out of his skin. "Yeah, I fucking thought that's what you said, asshole. People who use that word ain't no fucking friend of mine."

The lighter man straightened up at the sight of the spikes, electricity starting to crackle around him. "You wanna fight, you-" people around them gasped as he said the same insult as before. Bobby felt himself shudder. He hated that word, having heard it used toward some of his friends back before he found out he was a mutant. He had thought that this time was more progressive, but he guessed that it wasn't all that further ahead than his own time. Although, it seemed black people had a larger spot in the world than they had back in 1963. He remembered watching as his friends and their families were attacked and insulted daily. He hadn't even gone to school with a single black kid because they had all been forced into a different building. His parents had never made a fuss out of anyone's skin colour, but they had turned their noses up at the openly gay couple in the neighbourhood. He hated when he heard that word, though, because it made him think of hatred and hostility. The time they were in now, however, he saw black people with all sorts of power. It made him feel better that someday, his friends would have a better opportunity; it gave him hope.

Warren shifted in his seat, wings rustling. "Hey, Bobby, let's get out of here before a real fight happens."

Bobby shook his head in agreement and they left, walking down the lit up streets of New york, the air not as muggy and heavy as inside the clubs. Bobby could feel the alcohol inside of him, making his limbs feel fake and head feel way too light to stay up. Somehow he was walking decently. "What was the guy's problem?"

Waren shrugged. "It was just a word. I don't understand why he had gotten so upset over it."

Bobby stopped walking and stared at Warren in disbelief. "Just a word?"

"Well, yeah," Warren stopped and turned to face Bobby. "What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal," Bobby repeated, mocking obvious in his voice. "He called him a freaking- a, a- uh, dammit, Warren! I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with you!"

"What conversation?"

"About- about black people! I can't-" Bobby shook his head. "You don't understand how nasty that word really is, Warren, do you?"

"It's just a word," he repeated, shrugging.

"No, it's really not. We're from 1963, Warren. Black people can't even vote or go to the same school as me. I have friends who live on the same street as me that, if they are walking on the sidewalk with someone who's white, they're forced onto the road because those white people will literally- I've seen friends beaten to a bloody pulp while that word was shouted and jeered at them, Warren!"

Warren frowned. "Well, then you and I lived very different lives before we became X-men, didn't we?"

"Let me guess, you had all black servants? You're dad threw the word around like it was a goddamn synonym for maid or butler or cook? You never grew up watching them flinch when it was said because if they so much as fucking frowned because of it, I bet they were out on the streets without a fucking job!"

"Bobby," Warren hissed, "please stop yelling. This isn't important."

"Yes it is!" Bobby only yelled louder, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. "Black lives matter (4), Warren! Black lives matter because black people matter because people matter!" Ice erupted all around Bobby as he screamed out the last word. He crumpled into a ball on the ground, sobs wracking his body.

Warren kneeled beside him in worry, hands hovering above him but not touching him. "It's important to me because I've watched my neighbours' houses burn down. I've seen my friends be refused by the hospital closest to us because they were black. I've watched as the only black kid in my school dropped out because all of the teachers called her that goddamned word." He cried some more, his tears turning to ice as they fell to the ground, shattering. "But you grew up like that word didn't mean anything to anyone and was just... a fucking description. It kills people, Warren." He looked up at the other, wiping his face. "It's like the word faggot," he spat. Warren flinched. "What if your dad walked around and called you a faggot every day of your fucking life?"

He pulled away from Warren and stood up. "Faggot isn't as bad as that word, but it hurts. Words can be very powerful, very painful things, Warren." He turned to look at the other, who was looking down at the ground, shame written across every feature on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, jaw clenching as his eyes grew wet.

"Oh, no, no no no no. Don't you start crying, too! Tonight was supposed to be all about having fun!" Bobby walked over to Warren, placing a hand on his face.

"Yeah, but I'm a fucking asshole, I'm just now realising. I never thought to think that my dad was... That I was..."

"Warren, you're not... Come on, let's go have some fun. Let's hit up a different club. Let's get drunk some more. God that's fun. Let's dance."

So they flew to New Jersey, hitting up even more clubs and getting even more drunk, the fight all but forgotten. They were dancing, practically grinding against each other when someone who was taller than Warren accidently bumped into him. Her elbow connected with Warren's nose and he hissed, ducking down slightly. The girl turned and apologised, with not just one mouth, but three, all of them frowning in concern. Warren was holding his nose, nursing it. "M'fine," he said, standing up and trying to assure her. Blood began to trickle down, however, only making her begin to fret and reach into her purse. She pulled out a packet of tissues and handed them to her. Warren thanked her and both he and Bobby headed to the bathroom. (5)

Warren's nose wasn't gushing, but it was a steady flow of crimson. Luckily it hadn't gotten on his shirt, which was white. Not a smart decision. He nursed his nose until it stopped bleeding, Bobby leaning against the wall as he turned to smile at him. "You have a little blood on your face," Bobby pointed out, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it. He wiped the blood off, smirking. "I can't believe that girl was taller than you," he laughed.

Warren scowled, tugging Bobby along. They left the club and Warren was getting ready to lift Bobby back into the air. "How's your nose?"

"S'fine, a little sore."

"Awe, it hurts? Here, lemme give it a little kiss. I promise I'll be gentle." Warren sighed but Bobby turned around and lifted himself up onto his tiptoes, planting a gentle kiss on Warren's nose. He flinched slightly and Bobby laughed. "Should you even be flying so drunk? And what if the elevation cause your sensitive nose to start bleeding again?"

"Then I'll just bleed into your hair," he grumbled, blushing at Bobby's babying of him.

"Awe, that's not very nice. I'm worried about you, why don't we crash in a motel or hotel until we're positive your nose is better." Warren shuffled his feet but reluctantly agreed. They walked to the hotel, Bobby constantly asking how Warren was feeling. They got into their room and Warren snapped, not unfriendly, just exasperated.

"My nose is fine, Bobby," he said.

"It's just, she hit you hard enough to make it bleed, Warren. Typically when someone hits you hard enough to make it bleed, you're not okay right away. Think about it. I just want to make sure you're okay. We don't need a broken nose."

"The only thing I've broken tonight is my nail," Warren muttered, glancing at his hand with a pissed face. (6)

"Look at it," he said as he held his hand out. Bobby examined it, giving the other a quizzical glance.

"I see a slight chip in it," he offered.

"It's fucking chipped," Warren cried out, raising his hands as if he couldn't possibly understand why Bobby didn't understand that a chipped nail was a travesty. "My nails were finally looking decent and then I chipped one!"

"Warren, we punch people all the fucking time, I'm pretty sure a chipped nail is not the end for you."

"Maybe not literally, but there go my chances of being a hand model any time soon."

"Jesus, Warren, it'll grow back."

"But it won't be the same length as the others! It'll bother me for ages!"

"Awe, not only did Warren get elbowed in the nose, but now his nails aren't perfect," Bobby pouted, walking over to Warren. "The end of the world is upon us, and there is nothing we can do to right these travesties. The saddest day for humans and mutants and inhumans alike. At least, Warren is spending his last day with the one who means most to him, but he simply cannot find the joy in it," Bobby pushed Warren onto the bed, tracing the lines of his body like he had earlier, "for he has chipped his nail." Bobby giggled, kissing Warren.

Warren scowled into the kiss, trying to fight back his smile. When they parted he only strengthened his scowl. "The end of the world is upon us and I have the unfortunate fate of spending it with Robert Louis Drake."

"I heard that guy is a total loser," Bobby said, leaning in to nibble on Warren's ear. "How sad that you have to spend any time with him at all, let alone your last day. You are the most unfortunate man in the world, Warren Kenneth Worthington... the third." His breath ghosted over Warren's neck and he felt the other shudder beneath him. "A bloody nose, a chipped nail, and Bobby Drake."

Warren pulled him into a kiss, frantic and sloppy. They kissed until Bobby couldn't tell where he ended and Warren began. The heat in his chest exploded when Warren began to strip them both, warm fingers going over cold skin and bodies moving together. They moved until Bobby- who was always cold- felt warmth going all through him, until they were moaning out each other's names and panting, sweating. Warren went limp on top of Bobby. They laid like that for a while, content in each other's arms, the bed warm and trying so hard to convince Bobby to fall asleep. (7)

Warren kissed Bobby's chest before pulling away, causing Bobby to groan and curl up, missing the warmth of the other more than usual. "We should head home soon. If we aren't back within two days, they're going to send out search parties." Bobby whined but knew that Warren was right. He crawled out of the bed, picking up his clothing and getting dressed. His limbs felt heavy and he couldn't believe that Warren was about to fly them back to the west coast and into _Canada_. He shook his head, clearing out those thoughts.

They flew and flew, only stopping to eat or use the bathroom. It took them two days and one sketchy motel to get back to the school. The snow was sparkling white and Bobby urged Warren to drop him. He created an ice slide and threw himself into the snow, making a snow angel. "Look, Warren! I'm making a snow you!" Warren laughed and dropped himself in the snow, wings spread out. He carefully sat up and fly into the air, scooping Bobby up as well. Warren't snow angel was much better, Bobby had to admit. The stopped at the school, letting everyone know they were home and scarfed down some food.

When it grew dark, Bobby went outside. Warren found him making small flurries in front of him, staring up at the sky. He hugged Bobby, wrapping his wings around them both. "Let's go for a walk."

They entered the forest, leaving the school lights behind them. They walked until it was almost impossible to see in front of them- if it weren't for the bright light of the moon, it would have been impossible. Bobby sat in the snow, and looked up at the moon. It was even brighter and bigger than when they were in the Pennsylvanian fields. (8). Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Warren staring at him, a sad look on his face. "Bobby, I never want this to end," he said after a while.

"We have to go back inside at some point. You'll get frostbite," Bobby said, missing what Warren had been trying to tell him.

"No, Bobby. _This_. Us." He sighed.

"Why… why would it ever have to?" Bobby felt his heart thud heavily in his chest, panic racing through him.

"When we go back to our time… all of our friends might accept us, but society never well. Like you said the other day, we're from 1963. Even if it's okay to be gay _now_ , it wasn't then. And what if… what if they were right about the Professor? We go back and he erases everything we remember from this time?"

Bobby swallowed. "I don't want to forget," he said, voice hoarse.

"Neither do I, Bobby. I _love_ you." Warren looked up at the sky, breathing heavily. "I never want to go home."


	17. Bobby x Scott - Bobby x Scott x Warren

**Prompt:** **Bobby sometimes picks Scott up and ice slides off with him. He picked this up from Warren.**

 **Pairing: Bobby x Scott into Bobby x Scott x Warren**

Bobby watched as Scott fell from the rooftop.

Time seemed to go in slow motion as a bunch of them on the ground began to run toward the spot where they all knew Scott was going to land. None of them could go fast enough and Bobby felt like his heart was going to explode. Scott wasn't even flailing as he fell, unconscious from whatever blow on the roof sent him falling. He reached out a hand to start making an ice bridge, hoping that would speed him up enough to stop Scott's ultimate demise.

Suddenly, the light from the sun was blotted out and Warren was racing past all of them, his wings of fire creating a frantic heat on all of their faces, melting the small bit of a bridge Bobby had made. Before Bobby could breathe in again, Warren had caught Scott and was turning around. Bobby slowed his running, time seeming to catch up, his heart pounding at a steady- albeit fast- pace. Warren touched down on the ground, Scott groaning as he reached up to touch his head.

That was the first time Warren had literally swept Bobby's boyfriend off his feet.

The second time, they were all fighting a group of Hydra soldiers. Bobby had just created an ice shield, hindering the paths of enough bullets to give Warren a chance to swoop down and scoop up Scott, smiling, cracking a joke, making Scott laugh as they flew off. Bobby's heart squeezed in jealousy as he strengthened his shield and made a path of ice for him to race off after them.

It was after the third time, when Scott literally jumped into Warren's arms that Bobby decided it was best to just let Warren have Scott.

Now, all three of them were lying in bed together, a movie playing on the television screen, but none of them paying as much mind to it as they normally would. It was late and Bobby could feel sleep creeping in at the edges of his vision. He yawned, rolling over and shoving his cold hands up under Warren's shirt who made an indignant sound of offense and tried to pull away.

Scott laughed and slung an arm over Bobby's waist, pulling him away from Warren who seemed like he was about to fall out of the bed, his wings spread awkwardly behind him. They settled in for the night, Scott and Bobby tangled in each other's limbs, Warren's left wing covering them and his arm slung over Bobby's back, hand resting on Scott's arm.

It was snowing, Bobby was outside making a snow angel while Scott and Warren were tossing snowballs at each other and the other students, even Laura, who- despite her strong efforts to scowl and swear at every waking moment- seemed to be laughing and enjoying herself. Sometimes it was easy to forget that all of them were nothing but teenagers, some of them hardly even _that_.

Bobby stood up, watching the other's battle out their dominance of the two spots claimed as the team's territories. Bobby hadn't joined, claiming it wasn't fair for him to throw what he could create. He'd become a never ending snowball generator, forced to live out his days creating snowballs for his team, throwing them at unsuspecting friends turned enemies through a child's game. He saw Warren aiming for Scott, who was aiming for Hank.

Bobby grinned to himself, deciding to take Warren's place as Scott's saviour. He ran toward Scott, creating an ice bridge as he scooped Scott off his feet and slide away, dodging the snowballs Warren had just thrown. Scott laughed and shoved at Bobby who only leaned in for a cold kiss, their breath warm against each other's faces.

The next time Bobby slide away on ice with Scott, they had been taking a walk through the forest, the three of them. Bobby spotted a clearing in front of them and ran behind Scott and Warren. They turned in confusion when he ran away, but soon were trying to dodge him. Scott was swept up, Bobby's heart thudding in excitement. He slide them high up into the air, calling out for Warren to follow if he could keep up. The clearing was beneath them, untouched by feet, untouched by them. Warren stayed on the forest floor and watched them. Scott clutched Bobby's shoulders, which pulsed under the pressure. Bobby stopped when they were above the middle of the clearing, Scott in his arms like a bride.

They kissed.


	18. Genderswap Jean x Scott

**Plot... sorta like canon Power Surge, but rather than telekinetic outrage here when powers get out of control he and Cyclopes nearby get trapped in sort of mental dimension-prison. Conversation, then making out (which starts as Scotti`s attempt to calm him down and thus get free but turns into more), and maybe more. Cyclops is quite aggressive for a woman, while John is relatively shy and insecure** **Ok, so this pairing would be fine in genderswap AU, too (i.e. male Jean and female Scott), right? because I was thinking of this; more interesting twist** **Names are John and Scotti** **Sent in and dedicated** **to** **ObeliskX**

"C'mon, you can do this," are the last words she remembers saying, and the her name is the last thing she hears before John's psychic abilities erupted in a blinding flash of white.

Scotti's head felt heavy and there was a persistent ache in her back like she had been slammed up against a wall a few too many times, a feeling she was actually quite accustomed to. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, coughing slightly. Something felt wrong with her face and the eery quiet caused her ears to ring. Or… maybe her ears were ringing and creating the silence.

She heard someone groan somewhere behind her finished pushing herself into a sitting position. Scotti breathed a few time, looking around in the darkness. She brought her hands up to rub her face and realised why it felt wrong. Her glasses weren't on. She touched her eyes and flinched when she found out her eyes were actually open. Where could they possibly be that her optic blasts weren't activating?

The other person groaned again and flickers of white spread out in front of Scotti and she saw a glimpse of the other person. John, still in his track-and-field uniform. John groaned again, the white spreading out again. Scotti crawled over to him, hands reaching out to shake him, his name like cotton in her mouth. "John, please wake up."

John rolled over, green eyes flickering open for a moment, closing, and then opening again. "Scotti? Where are we?"

"I don't know," she answered, sitting back and running her hands through her hair, tugging at it slightly. John sat up after a moment, groaning. The white filled the room, almost blinding. Scotti marveled in the absence of colours, letting this moment not tainted in red set in. John looked so much different now that Scotti wasn't looking through the ruby glasses. "But wherever we are, it's connected to you, so please don't pass out again. It was all darkness when I woke up."

John looked around, a worried, confused expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" John turned to look at Scotti, as if he didn't understand the question. "Professor X said that your powers were multiplying far too rapidly for you to control," she explained. "We couldn't get to you, not without having Rogue absorb some of your powers. Then you communicated through him." Scott let out a shaky laugh, brushing a strand of her hair from her face. "We were making headway, or so I thought. Things were dying down and your voice was coming out of both of you and… but suddenly everything exploded in white again, but so much more powerful than the previous times. And then I woke up in here with you. I don't know where the others are," she admitted, biting her lip.

John looked around, a quizzical expression on his face. "I think… I think we're in my head," he said softly after a moment of silence.

Scotti laughed lightly, "A bit empty isn't it?"

John let out a laugh as well. "Yeah, I guess it is." He looked around some more before standing and beginning to walk away from Scotti. She scrambled to her feet and chased after John. She caught up and walked beside him, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Prove it," she said after a moment.

"Huh?"

"Prove that this is your mind. If it's yours, you can control anything. Hell, you could probably control me, because if we _are_ in your head, this isn't my physical body, just my psychological one. Right? That's why I don't have my glasses on. That's why I'm able to walk around and look at things without red tainting my vision like I'm dying in some video game." She stopped walking and grabbed John's elbow. "Prove it's your mind, maybe we can find a way out of here. Conjure up someone, make them say hi."

John furrowed his brow, but a few minutes later, the perky blonde girl that Scotti hated vehemently was appearing in wisps off to the side of them. Denise waved at them, her voice reaching Scotti's ears but more like it was already in her head. Just like she had appeared, wisps of her disappeared until there was nothing left but the echo of her voice. Scotti turned to John who was still staring at the spot where the girl had been. "I guess this really is your mind," Scotti breathed, harshness barely concealed. She turned on her heel and began to storm away.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," she snapped, turning to the right, walking toward more never-ending blankness. "Away from you."

"In my own mind?" John caught up to her, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to turn and face him. "What's your problem so suddenly?"

"You're my problem so suddenly," Scotti hissed. "You couldn't conjure up Rogue, because it's not like we weren't just talking about him. Or Professor X because I wasn't talking about her either! No, you conjure up Denise, of all goddamn people."

John looked confused and offended. "I just… what's your beef with her?" He asked the question so suddenly that Scotti was actually caught off guard.

"My problem with _her_ , is that she's always flirting with you, John. And maybe I'm only saying this outloud because this is all in your head and later maybe I won't even remember being in here and you'll convince yourself it was something you wanted to hear or whatever, but I like you, John. Alright? I really, _really,_ like you. And you flirt with me, run off with Denise. You go to Denise's party, ask me to come along, spend all the time with her. I'm getting mixed signals here, John. do you want me, or do you want me to want _you_?"

John stopped, his eyes widening. "Is that really what you think?"

"Yes, John, it is."

"Scotti, I _like_ you," he said, stepping closer. "I honestly thought you knew that."

"Then why even give Denise the time of day?" Scotti didn't move away albeit she wasn't sure if she wanted to. Even if this was all in John's head, it was… happening to her. John didn't answer her, instead, he pulled her body closer to his and tilted her head up, kissing her.

Scotti wrapped her arms around John's shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Her stomach was fluttering and she wanted nothing more than to push John up against a wall and perhaps John had the same thought because suddenly Scotti was up against a wall. She wrapped her legs around John's waist, groaning into the kiss when John licked at her lips. She opened her mouth and let him in, let him devour her. She felt twitches of pleasure in her pants, ignoring the way her chest suddenly went tight and her devoid of air. They parted from their kiss and Scotti knew that John was looking into her head. She pushed the image of what she wanted to the front of her mind.

John's cheeks went pink and his eyes grew large. "Scotti-"

"Please, it's not like our real bodies will be affected." John bite at his bottom lip and Scotti suddenly really wanted to be the one doing that. She leaned forward, John's mouth opening in question. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and rolled it. The sound John made was godly to Scotti's ears. It only created more warmth between her legs. "Please, Johnnie," she said, voice low and so lazy with lust it was foreign to her own ears.

* * *

They lay in the bed that John had created in his head, their naked bodies next to each other under the plush comforter. Scotti was serenely heavy-limbed, a content buzz going through her veins. She rolled over, legs tingling still from the rush of nerves, and ran her fingers up John's bare chest. "Do you remember what I said to you before we ended up here?"

"Please, Johnnie?" John answered, raising an eyebrow but not taking his eyes off of the fingers spread across his pectorals.

Scotti laughed slightly, "no, Jonnie, not here in the bed. _Here_ , in your head?"

John shook his head, finally looking up at Scott.

"I know you better than anyone ever has, or ever will, John," Scotti said quietly. "You told me you couldn't concentrate on my voice. And I said 'Don't tell me what you can't do, John. I know you better than anyone ever has, or ever will. C'mon, you can do this'. And then you said my name." She sat up. "And the room was exploding in the white light and now we're stuck here in your head. Do you know how to pull us out?"

John sat up as well, shaking his head slowly. "But it feels like I do, like there's an itch in the back of my mind that's telling me how to do it. I just have to search for it, but I don't know how to find it. There's so much space here, I don't even know where to start."

Scotti went to say something when the voice of the Professor ran through her ears. She perked up, "John, did you hear that?"

John shook his head, looking confused. "I didn't hear any-"

Scotti shushed him, listening as the Professor spoke again, her voice faint and in the back of Scotti's mind. "The Professor must be trying to get through to me back in the real world." She focused on what she was saying, concentrating. She relayed each word to John.

* * *

John was sitting on the bench outside of the library, staring at the water that shimmered through the break in the trees. Scotti had just finished thanking Rogue for his help. She was carrying a bouquet of roses and handed them to Jean, smiling. Her smile turned to a frown when she handed John the card that came with it. "From Denise," she said with a harsh scowl.

"Don't worry about her," John said. "You know me better than anyone ever has, or ever will," he said as he walked away.


	19. Rules for Requests mandatory

Any and all pairings are welcome, no matter how obscure, mainstream, weird, etc...

Any characters are welcome

 **You do not have to request a pairing**

Crossover fics are allowed, so long as they remain in the MARVEL universe

I will **not** write

\- Anything pertaining to watersports - Pedophilia - Deification - Necrophilia - Shota / severely underage sexual acts - Vore - Furryism (Kurt and Hank do not apply to this role because they **literally** have fur)

If you ask me for a prompt and I accept it, it will be added to a **list** of prompts I have to do

That being said, I may not get to your prompt right away or quickly, depending on how long other prompts are

The more you harass me, the worse the outcome of the drabble / fic will be, and the **longer I will take**

I have every and **all** rights to deny your request or even drop it

After being harassed already for a fic after explicitly informing them that there were **seven** ahead of in the queue, I do not tolerate **any** harassment

 **You may not demand to see the outcome before it is posted**

That being said, if you politely ask for it, there is a possibility I will provide you with a link to the document so you may leave comments on certain aspects of the fic

I will provide you with periodic updates on your request if you previously asked for updates, but they will not be given if you do not ask

Pestering me for updates on the progress of the story will result in my taking longer or perhaps dropping it if pestering turns into harassment

Unless you specifically request smut, I will skip over any sexual scenes because I upload [most] of these drabbles onto ao3, ffn and tumblr and I don't desire to go above a T rating.

Remember, you may have a certain vision for the fic, but I do not know that unless you tell me. If my fic doesn't come out how you expected it to, keep in mind we are two different people

I will not tolerate being told my ideas or takes on prompts are wrong

I really wish I didn't have to create this set of rules, but it only ever takes **one** person to ruin everything for everyone else.

Other than the above listed rules, everything else is fair game

Please have fun sending in your prompts!

I love you


	20. Character's Thoughts on Scott's Death

**For ficwriter356 both on here and on a03. I hope you enjoy it, and I'm sure it's painfully obvious how I feel about certain characters after finishing Death of X. There's mentions of Scott x Bobby, Scott x Warren, and Scott x Logan because I'm trash and I ship all of that. There's also a mention of Scott x Jean but that's to be expected when I try not to diverge from canon too much.**

 **Prompt: everyone's thoughts on Scott dying (I know Psychlocke was also in the lineup, but I'm not too good at her character so I omitted her. I hope the people I did include are good enough though.) (It' painfully obvious I'm absolute trash for Bobby x Scott, I'm sorry.)**

Scott felt his stomach churn, vomit trying to rush up his throat. He swallowed it down, tears burning at his eyes and pooling in his visor before slipping through a crack somewhere. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning, going deep into blackness that no matter how much light was shone in, seemed to suck it all in, snuffing out the candles. He watched as the Inhuman known as Black Bolt stopped his powers. The last remains of Scott's body seemed to flutter away in the wind, incinerated, turned to ash, filleted by whatever power the Inhuman possessed. Scott felt the Earth slipping out from underneath his feet, the red stained sky suddenly in front of him and the rocky ground coming up on him faster than his heart could even beat.

The face of the adult Bobby suddenly appeared before him, coldness spreading from his neck down his back. He had stopped his fall, caught him before he smacked his skull on the ground. His ears were ringing and he couldn't hear what Bobby was trying to say to him. All he could think about was that no matter how hard he tried to change his fate, he was going to end up dead. He was going to die with people and mutants and Inhumans all hating him. So little people were going to care about him and he was going to die. Jean was going to die, Professor Xavier was going to die, everyone he ever loved and cared about was going to die. From his own hands, his own choices, his own actions. People were going to die and so was he.

His ears were ringing and he looked up at the red-sky, wishing that he could see it's true colours just one more time in his life before he died. If he could see the sky without blood in his eyes once before he died, then maybe he could die peacefully. He wondered if his adult self ever got that wish to come true. Or if he died never knowing what Jean's hair looked like in reality. If he never got to see his wife in her wedding gown, not tainting by his curse. Scott turned his head from the sky and away from Bobby, his whole body shaking and he suddenly felt the acidic burn of vomit all to strongly in his nose. He threw up a few times, this adult version of his friend never putting him down. Then it all faded to black.

* * *

He couldn't even understand what Scott was saying. The other was talking rapidly, tear streaks down his dirty face and he was shaking so badly. Every word came out with a stutter and a sob. Scott was hugging himself and rocking on the floor and as much as Bobby tried to calm him down, nothing was working. He had his arm around Scott's shoulder, talking to him a low, soothing tone. "Scott, please. Calm down. Tell me what happened, man. I can't help if you don't tell me."

His adult self walked in, blue eyes soaking in the scene, a horrible, wretched expression in them. "You're not going to calm him down anytime soon," he said, voice hoarse and cracked. "He's just watched his older self get turned to particles by Black Bolt. Cyclops is dead." Scott let out a screaming sob, biting down on his knuckles and doubling over. Bobby's heart missed a beat and then clenched tightly as he turned away from his older self and back to Scott. There was a horrible dread in his chest and- in his head- it wasn't the older version he was seeing. It was this Scott. The Scott he knew and loved and was friends with. They fought sometimes, but they were still friends. His friend was going to die. Tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his cheeks, but all he could do was pull Scott closer into a hug, combing his fingers through Scott's hair. He whispered to himself and to Scott, over and over again, "Shh… It'll be okay. It'll all be okay. It's okay." He knew, deep down, however, someday, his older self would stumble on this scene and know- in his heart- nothing was ever okay.

* * *

Hank was sitting on the sofa. A few of the adults were going around, stopping everyone and talking to them in hushed tones, relaying the news. Hank, however, had the misfortune of overhearing the conversation, as his hearing was slightly more developed than average. When the woman known as Storm began to approach him, he felt his palms shaking, heart going at a frantic pace. She sat on the chair across from him, her pupiless eyes looking at him, staring from within the void of white. "Hank-"

"Cyclops is dead," he interrupted, voice monotone. "I overheard." He looked down at his hands, focusing hard on the details in them, knowing that someday, he wouldn't be able to see the creases, the lines. Someday, they would be blue and covered in fur and really, he should be devastated to hear that the adult version of his friend had just died, but there was nothing inside of him anymore. He just… wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and forget the future that was waiting for them. "Is Scott doing alright?"

* * *

Warren felt like he was never going to be able to close his eyes without seeing Scott stand there and be blown away. He wasn't particularly close to the adult version of his friend, but when things had become so confusing for him, being time-displaced, knowing what happened to his wings, Cyclops had welcomed Warren with open arms. He didn't treat Warren like a child even though he wasn't nearly as skilled or experienced as his adult counterpart. Instead, Cyclops had taught him, trained him, believed in him. It seemed so much more sincere coming from Scott than it ever had coming from Professor Xavier.

When he stood there, his wings burning behind his back, and watched Scott let himself be killed, he felt like a part of his soul had been ripped out and thrown into the breeze with the ashes of Cyclops; existence. His heart thudded dully in his chest. The group of X-men and other mutants had all made the journey back to the 'school'. Everyone was quiet and mourning, but Warren felt like he needed to fly, needed to scream. He stepped outside, ignoring the bite of cold from the wind, ignoring whoever had said his name behind him and ran. He snapped his wings out, the flames igniting and threw himself into the air. He flew up high, he flew fast, he flew until his lungs felt like they were going to explode. So he began screaming. Tears that should have been hot felt like ice as they cut down his cheeks. His throat grew raw and his skin red as he flew into the cold. Then he just suddenly stopped and let himself fall to the ground. He heard someone scream from below; he hadn't realised he was so close to the school again. Just as he was about to hit the ground, he flapped his wings, propelling him back up some, then let himself fall the last few feet.

He hit the ground with a thud, the fire of his wings making the snow melt and soak into his back and hair. His breath had been knocked out of him when he landed. He stared up at the endless sky, tears frozen onto his cheeks.

* * *

Laura refused to cry. She hadn't known about his death until she had found Warren laying out in the snow, his nose bright red from the cold and his teeth clattering together. She grumbled, made him stand, brought him inside. They sat on her bed and she rubbed his back, trying to coax out of him the reason as to why he thought laying in the snow was a good idea. He started to cry again, voice cracking when he said her name. She hadn't ever seen him so upset and the weird twist in her chest was foreign to her. "Laura-" he said again, "-he's dead. Cyclops is dead."

She didn't know why it hit her so hard, hard enough that forcefully exhaled. Cyclops was single-handedly responsible for the demise of their kind. At least, that's what she had thought so for so long, until she joined the ranks of the X-Men and learned that everything she believed to be true was corrupted somehow. She had learned about the other side of the coin and come to value and respect Cyclops. She didn't feel nearly as sad as she could have, but maybe that was because she spent most of her life repressing her emotions. There was a definite ache in her chest and she brought her free hand up to place it over her heart, feeling it's erratic, unsteady beat. "Oh, Warren," she said, her own voice strained and threatening to break. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

To Illyana, something had been very wrong for a long time now. On the tip of her tongue, scratching just beneath her mind, but she could never put into words. Daisuke was sitting next to her, his head between his knees. She had brought him to place where the Inhumans wouldn't find him, where the X-men wouldn't find him. Not unless they really, really had to. She didn't hate Inhumans like maybe she should have.

She sighed and Daisuke turned to look at her. "Why are you still here?"

"Because there is nothing for me anywhere else. Cyclops is dead and Emma is in charge. It all feels wrong to me, but I don't know why. I will return eventually; I must. But that doesn't mean I'm going back right away," she answered, pulling out blades of grass beside her. There was a sullen ache in her chest and perhaps she had always fostered affection for Cyclops, but to know he was dead and gone from this world, made her feel an emptiness she hadn't felt since Piotr left her when she was young. "This was never supposed to happen, but I feel like… I feel like Emma knew what would happen all along and just let it take it's course."

Daisuke grunted. "I was so excited to become an Inhuman," he said, words bitter. "I thought it would finally give me a sense of purpose in this world. Mutant-life had passed me up. Puberty came and went and I never… became anything special. But then I heard about Inhumans and I wished so hard to be one. I wanted to be special. Now I know, there's nothing special about any of this. Only horrible."

Illyana nodded in agreement. "Horrible seems to be a continuing theme in my life."

* * *

Ororo had watched in horror as Cyclops gave up his life, attacking the Inhumans with one last, needless attack. It wasn't like him to throw his life away like that, especially since he had children to look after, back at the makeshift, prisoner for a school he had opened. She flew down to the spot where he had been standing, her heart thudding in despair. She barely paid any mind to the other mutants in the vicinity, reaching her gloved hand to the small pile of ash that was the remains of Scott. The air was eerily still around her. She turned to face the Inhumans, anger and fury on her expression even though she was trying so hard to keep her cool. She stalked up to the man known as Blackbolt, shoving a finger into his chest, yelling at him. "OF ALL THE WAYS TO END A CONFLICT, YOU DECIDED ON MURDER!"

The man scowled and opened his mouth to defend himself, Ororo assumed, but the sudden crack of lightening from behind her silence him. "We may have ended this, but from here on forth, Inhumans and mutants work together! We do not kill simply because we disagree; I had hoped you of all people would have understood that! This is over, but my people will not forget that instead of peaceful solutions, you only turned Cyclops into a martyr." She turned on her heel, a disgusted scowl thrown towards Medusa, and flew away from them, to the rest of the group. Anger pulsed through her veins and she knew she'd have to work that anger off before she thought about sitting down with the other mutants who had stayed behind and explained to them that Scott Summers was dead.

* * *

Word had it's way of getting around, and by it's way, Logan meant the news. He wasn't certain if the reporter, most definitely human, was relaying the news as if it was a celebratory or as if it was another death in the world. The death of a prominent figure, neither good or bad but simply renowned. He finished off his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his had.

A few years sooner, maybe he might have mourned the man's death.

He paid his tab and made his way back to his apartment, mulling over the news of Cyclops' death. He entered his apartment, not bothering to turn on lights as he kicked off his boots and undid his belt. He shuffled to his living room, grumbling to himself. Scott was an asshole, he told himself over and over. He had killed Chuck, only got in the way when he pursued Jean. Scott was nothing but trouble and it was good that he was finally gone. Maybe mutant-kind could finally get a break. He punched the punching bag that was hanging up in his living room, letting out an angry growl.

He repeated those thoughts like a mantra until the only things in his head were every single bad moment he had ever had with Scott. Every fight, every bicker, every swear word and punch. It wasn't until he realised he had stopped punching the bag and was instead holding it steady with his hands that were shaking so badly he had to focus on them to stop, that the good thoughts rolled in.

Every laugh and joke, shoulder bump, agreement. Every time they realised they were a good team and gruffly complimented each other. Every little look and touch, that had held so much more potential that they had tried so hard to act on, but Emma had never let them have anything good in their lives. Every secret kiss they shared and every night they spent, sweating and breathing in each other. He growled, claws sliding out as he punched the bag again. Everyone he ever loved died and it was only for the best that he stopped letting people into his life. It was for the best that Scott was gone, because he would never have to suffer under his stare again. Never have to relive those moments when his scent got stuck in his nose.

If it was really for the best, however, why did his chest hurt so bad?

* * *

He had been ready for this moment the entire time. He knew, somewhere in his mind, that Scott was actually dead, and had been dead. Perhaps not physically dead, but there were moments when he'd hear Scott's voice and turn only to see Emma, standing there, expectant, waiting. It would take a moment and then he'd see Scott. Perhaps his mind had been preparing him for this moment all along and he wasn't actually losing it.

But when he heard Scott had died, Hank had been deep in thought over a jumbled mess of equations in front of him. The Inhuman he had been working with gasped when Medusa came on the screen, beside her stood Emma, her body diamond and her mouth turned down in something between a sob and a scowl.

"Cyclops is dead," Medusa had said, her voice echoing in his head even as Emma began to speak. He hadn't been ready for the way his heart seized up and his brain momentarily seemed to lack the ability to function. Of course, he knew that was ludicrous because the brain never actually stopped working until death. His eyes burnt and he knew that the fur on his cheeks were getting wet, dripping to the floor below him. He had known Scott for so, so long. They were friends and even though they hadn't always seen eye to eye, they were friends. It was a horrible, aching pain all through his chest. A fire burnt in his throat and he had to sit down, head between his knees as he began to sob. His mind may have been trying to prepare him for this moment, and perhaps it had been trying for many, many years, but it didn't soften the blow. The knowledge that someone he had known and cared about for twenty-some years was dead, gone. Not so much as whisper went through the laboratory as Hank sat there, breathing rapidly, crying.

He would very much rather have switched places with Scott if it meant his friend got to live even one more day.

* * *

Bobby didn't know what Scott thought he was doing, approaching the Inhumans like he was. The way he held his body didn't register right with Bobby, something was off. From his spot, he couldn't hear what was being exchanged between them, but the way Scott was pacing, swinging his arms, it made his heart miss beats. He thought back to the other week, when he came across Scott sobbing in his room, fists balled up into his eyes. His tick causing him to repeat himself so many times. He thought about the kiss he placed on Scott's lips.

He thought about how Scott had kissed him back and how they kissed whenever they were alone, which became increasingly less and less. He thought about how Emma seemed to be at his hip all the time in the past few weeks, how Scott so much hadn't turned to look twice at Bobby. He knew something was wrong and he hadn't seen it until it was too late. Scott was reaching up to his visor, ready to shoot at the Inhumans. The one known as Blackbolt stepped in front of everybody, pulses seeming to come off his body, literally shredding Scott's flesh off his bones. It turned him into paper thin particles that flew away in the wind. Bobby's face twisted in absolute horror, his heart dropped down through his stomach, pain he had never known possible welled up in his he hadn't been in his ice form, he knew the tears would be spilling. He made a move toward the pile of… Scott, but saw Ororo was already beating him to it.

He stepped back and noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the younger version of the man he had been slowly falling in love with for years, falling to the ground. He hurried over to him, catching him just before his skull would have connected with the ground. "Kid, kid are you alright?" His chest felt tight as he held the alive and well version of Scott. The young version he knew his young self was already starting to dream about. He knew that his younger self was tearing himself apart over it and that he would never tell Scott until it was too late. "Scott?" Bobby asked if he was okay again, tensing when Scott rolled over and vomited.

When they were back at the school, he saw himself sitting with Scott on the floor as Scott screamed. His heart ached and he held back the tears as he told himself what had happened. He knew that Bobby would catch the way his voice hitched and his breathing was strained. He walked away and out the back door, creating an ice dome where he spent the next few hours sobbing, Scott's name never leaving his mouth but always on the tip of tongue and tingling against his lips.

* * *

Warren wasn't quite sure how he found out. Perhaps someone came to visit him and let it slip. Maybe he had heard it on the news. Either way, it hadn't registered to him until night came and he was sitting up in bed, wondering why his hands were shaking and palms sweating. He knew plenty of other people who had died over the years. Jean and Kurt came to his mind as the most painful. Scott, however, was the freshest. There was a familiar emptiness inside of him, the same emptiness that he had felt after he had been fused with Apocalypse and then after they had been separated. It wasn't something he enjoyed, an emptiness that ate away at your insides, trying to fill itself, only destroying you more in the process.

He remember how he sat with Scott, having someone to talk to about fusing with Apocalypse and losing a part of you to him, not only a part of your life, but a part of your mind. A part that created that emptiness at the most inopportune times. He swallowed, wiping his hands on his bedspread, trying to calm himself down. Scott's death wasn't any worse than Kurt's or Jean's, he told himself. He knew he was lying to himself, though. You don't go what he and Scott had and not realise that you are, in all honesty, alone in this world. He and Scott had literally been singled out by Apocalypse, tainted by him, corrupted and abused. Yet they had each other and so maybe they weren't as alone as Apocalypse tried to make them feel. He remembered what it felt like to kiss Scott, scared and tentative and something that only happened that night, but still something that had helped fill that emptiness. Until now.

Without Scott, Angel was truly and utterly alone. No one understood his pain, his past. No one knew what it was like for him when he wasn't Angel but instead Death. Scott was gone and with him had gone the only way of keeping the emptiness contained. He found himself sobbing, his breaths coming in rapid, laboured patterns, wheezes penetrating the silence of his home. Slobber and snot and salty tears dribbled down his face and it was the ugliest Warren had ever cried since the day his tried to saw off his wings. He had never felt so empty.

* * *

Erik wasn't a sentimental man, or so he liked to say. He had no qualms over shooting his own son in the kneecap once, but there was a definite sad ache in his chest when he found out that Cyclops had died. Perhaps, in a way, Magneto felt like it was his responsibility to make sure Scott stayed safe, especially after Charles' had died. Or perhaps, in his own twisted way, he had come to care for the x-man. As annoying and compulsive, controlling and nit-picky the boy had been, he had always pulled through, often laying down his own pride for the sake and safety of others. Something Magneto commended him for, but would never do himself. They worked together for a while, and Magneto had come to realise he did indeed hold a fondness for Cyclops. Scott had been everything his own children could never be: independent.

So when he heard that the Inhuman, Blackbolt, had killed Scott in one fowl swoop, he was willing to call bullshit. He knew there was something up with Emma and he confronted her, but she was an unmoving stone, sticking to her story and accusing Erik of not having a heart. It only served to prove his thoughts were right. Scott had either died before Blackbold killed him, ran off into hiding, or Emma knew that Scott had been planning an almost suicide-esque death. And the frantic skip in his heart only made him frown, eyes dry but not without aching.

* * *

Alex always knew that it was the younger brother's job to eventually attend the older brother's funeral. He hadn't been expecting to be so goddamn early in their lives, however. Well, so goddamn early in Alex's. Scott's was over. When he heard the news, delivered so dryly by Emma, her features set in stone even though she was not glistening diamond, he almost broke down. He had always argued with Scott, just like any brother. Lorna had been an argument, one that had almost cost lives at one point. They were always fighting, always bickering, even when they were on the same side. He knew that he would never have that again. He bite his tongue and pulled out the suit.

After the funeral, Emma stood next to him, her body diamond and the sound of the rain hitting off of her was almost musical. He knew his brother wasn't down there, not a single bit of him was down there. When he discovered that Scott had died long before the fighting with the Inhumans had taken place, his knees went weak. He fell to the floor, looking at the rotting, mutilated corpse of his older brother, his chest suddenly far to heavy for him to breathe. Emma was talking, but the ringing in his ears had drowned her out and he felt like he was going to be sick. He took a shuddery breath, pushing himself to his feet and staring at Emma. He swore at her and turned on his heels, but he knew he couldn't tell anyone. That would only start more fights between mutants and Inhumans. He walked in the rain until everything built up inside of him and be started screaming, shooting his plasma blast out to the ocean, letting all the anger and anguish leave him until he fell to his knees, sobbing into the open air.

* * *

Emma knew. She had known for so, so long now. Seeing it happen again was a completely different experience, however. Her nose was bleeding from the strain of keeping up her facade. Tears streaked down her face, and her face hurt from sobbing. She was crying before it even happened, because she saw in her head, in 'Scott's' head, what was about to happen. "Ideas never die," she whispered to herself, at the same time Scott had said it.

Now, she sat, her gloved hands tracing the bridge of his nose, a sad, broken smile on her lips, her diamond blue eyes tainted with the insanity that was starting to creep along the edges of her mind. No one could ever know. Never. Alex had been the only acception. She would take this secret to the grave, she told herself. She leaned down, kissing Cyclops' chest. To Emma, Cyclops wasn't dead, because she had turned him into an idea, and ideas could never die.


	21. Inhumans get called out on their shit

Prompt: - scott doesn't die by m pox. He gives inhumans the metamorphical finger. Black bolt can't kill Scott! (I hate inhumans)

Blackbolt and inhumans get called out on trying to murder Scott

For ficwriter356

Scott stepped out from the red rain, an almost twisted smile on his face. He spoke to the Inhumans in front of him, his smile twisting into something far more wicked. He reached up as if he still wore a visor, his optic blast glowing and seeming to leak out from under his mask. He saw the Inhuman known as Blackbolt step forward and open his mouth.

Magneto stepped in, waving his hand and landing beside Scott. The hypersonic scream that Blackbolt had been about to throw at Scott suddenly bounced back at the Inhuman, knocking him off his feet and sending him to the ground. Magneto chuckled beside Cyclops as the Inhumans stared in horrified confusion. "I changed the magnetic waves around him. Anytime he opens that mouth of his, the hypersonic scream will be sent back to him, harming no one but himself. But it seems he cannot harm himself with it. Pity."

Outrage from the other mutants echoed through the air, the expression on Medusa's face hardened. "One Terrigen cloud has been destroyed, and if you do not contain the second," Cyclops said, "it will be destroyed as well. I will not permit any further attacks on mutant life or well being. Too many of our own have died to the toxins in the Terrigen cloud."

She stepped toward them, Scott's mask glowing in preparation as her prehensile hair fluttered. "How dare you! The Terrigen mist is sacred to my people! We were trying to help, but you've done nothing but get in the way and-"

"HELP? You sent more mutants toward the cloud and battled our attempts at containing it every step of the way," Bobby slide down on an ice slide, landing beside Cyclops. His eyes were wide at the fury in which Cyclops yelled the words. He reached out toward him but Cyclops stepped ever closer to Medusa. "How many Inhumans died today?" The woman faltered. "How many Inhumans died, Medusa? None!" He stepped closer, only a few yards away from her now.

"Do you want to know how many of my people died today? Do you want to know how many of my people died because of this Terrigen mist, Medusa?" He was snarling, practically screaming at the woman. Blackbolt stepped in between them and opened his mouth, but Magneto waved his hand again, the scream knocking Blackbolt off of his feet.

Emma ran up from behind them, "Look," she called out. "Again, Blackbolt tries to kill Cyclops when we pose not physical threat!" More murmurs from the mutant bystanders, rage in many of their voices.

"The Inhumans are trying to kill us off," one called out.

"They're trying to kill Cyclops even though he saved us!"

Medusa's voice was hushed, only heard by her and Cyclops. "How did the effects of the Terrigen not harm you, then?"

"Maybe I'm lucky and I'm immune. Maybe it's in my system, slowly killing me, who knows? But from here on out, mutants and Inhumans are working together to fix this. And you will be letting us contain the other Terrigen cloud, or we will destroy it as well. And your attempts at killing me will be revealed and it is up to the people to decide how they handle that."


	22. No Pairing - Scott, Charles,Steve Rogers

**Prompt Suggestion: Someone, anyone (I would say Steve Rogers) calls Charles out on using Scott, and by extension the rest of the O5, as a child soldier. for mutantleaderinthemaking on tumblr**

Scott tugged at the frayed sleeve of his favourite sweater, one - despite many of his friends urges - he refused to get rid of. He focused intensely on how the light grey and dark maroon threads crisscrossed in a static pattern, weaving in and out of each frays on his sleeve threatened to slip from under each other and unravel the sweater.

He swallowed as voices were raised and flinched, biting his bottom lip and tugging at the loose strands. He couldn't hear what was being said but they weren't happy or nice words. After a few more minutes, the sound of stomping feet came toward the door and a sharp command from Professor Xavier entered Scott's mind. _You can come in now_.

As Scott reached for the door, Captain America swung it open, anger evident on his face. The hard blue eyes softened minutely when they landed on Scott, who swallowed hard and scurried past him, forcing himself to remain passive and unmoved. He had to work on controlling his emotions; he was supposed to become a good leader and good leaders didn't falter in the presence of things that scared them.

Captain America shut the door and made his way back over to the chairs where Scott sat, but he didn't sit. Instead he gripped the leather material of Scott's chair, standing behind him, making Scott feel claustrophobic. Scott took a deep, shaky breath and tried to focus on Professor Xavier, whose eyebrows were knitted together in a mixture between sorrow, anger, and worry.

"Mister Steve Rogers is here today because he - and a number of other Avengers - have brought forth a complaint about this school and its activities."

Scott's back straightened and he turned to look at Captain America, his mouth agape in confusion. "But why? This school - what you do here for us - is incredible. You help us learn how to control our powers and you teach us hand-to-hand combat and you get us ready for the real world and-"

Captain America cut him off, his voice slicing through the air like a blade and Scott flinched. "The real world doesn't involve children fighting in battles that don't concern them. Children aren't made to become superheros overnight. And that's what Charles is doing. This isn't a school to hone your abilities and teach you safe practice or mathematics and science. This school is a training ground, a cull meant to create children soldiers."

He stepped away from Scott, toward the desk, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He wasn't wearing his suit, instead adorned in normal clothing, his hair falling into his face slightly as he moved. "You're using Scott Summers - this poor boy who's been through more than enough - as a child soldier!"

"I am doing no such thing!" The professor countered, voice raising as well, but not nearly as loud as Steve's. Scott felt his stomach churn, worry and fear trying to claw its way out of his chest and throat, wanting to escape in any way possible. "I am honing their abilities so that they may integrate with normal society someday without being perceived with fear and mistrust!"

"By teaching them to dodge projectiles and hand-to-hand combat? Sending them out to fight battles that the Avengers could easily take care of? We are often cleaning up more messes created by the X-men than the X-men save the day." He scoffed, and Scott flinched again.

Charles opened his mouth to defend himself again but Stever cut in once more, slamming his fist on the table. "The Avengers have files on every single one of your students. All of them. Scott Summers has been through enough, you do not need to, nor _should_ you, be sending him out to battle crazed lunatics, putting his life on the line. You shouldn't be doing that with any of these children. Not Scott Summers, not Jean Grey, Hank McCoy, Warren Worthington or Robert Drake. They are _children_."

Scott closed his eyes behind his glasses, feeling sick. He was stressed out and tired of being talked about as if he wasn't sitting right there. Steve words ignited thoughts in his mind that he tried to squash down. He opened his mouth to speak but the Avenger was still going. "Children have no place in war or fighting. That's what this is coming to, Charles. War. There _will_ be war among the mutants and you know that. That war will happen some day, pulling all of humanity into it. But these children do _not_ have a place in it."

"We'll have a place when the war happens!" Scott interrupted, cheeks going hot. "Why is it such a problem that we train and hone our skills? Don't you want us to be able to defend ourselves?"

Steve turned and faced Scott, a softening expression crossing his face. "I want you to be able to defend yourselves," he said, voice quiet and not as hard as when he had been yelling at Professor Xavier. "But that's it. I don't want him sending children out to fight when the Avengers can handle it." He knelt down to Scott's height, placing his hands over Scott's. "Children don't need to fight other children or adults. It's just not right. It's not safe. And I'm not comfortable putting children in jeopardy; I'm not comfortable putting _you_ in jeopardy like that."

He stood and faced Charles again. "I'm not telling you to shut down this school, but I'm warning you. Leave these children out of the battles and fights. That's for adults. Train them all you want, but keep it in the school and off the real field. Because, someday, something bad will happen, because something bad always happens. And no one needs the death of a child on anyone's conscience."


	23. No Pairing - Brotherhood EvoVerse

**How about humorous chapter with genderbent Brotherhood?**

 **Scandal of the day (and other squabbles in Sisterhood):who has stolen cosmetics bag of Lana avers (f!Avalanche)? Angry female investigator will suspect everybody... except Toad, who surprisingly turns out to be criminal: for the first time she wanted to look like a girl should to be able to go to the party... f!Quicksilver (famous for her "amorousness") pities her and decides to help to learn, how to attract boys... (epic fail at the end probably?)**

 **Lana - Lance; Pietro - Pietra; Todd - Tanya**

 **For ObeliskX**

Tanya heard yelling in the living room and felt the whole house shake. She let out a cry and hopped into the hallway, bouncing off the walls, as she hurried into the living room. Lana was standing there, her hair pulled back. She was holding a single mascara wand. "Who did it?"

The house shook again and Pietra rushed into the room as well, scowling. Her silver hair settled around her shoulders gracefully. "Lana, what is your issue?" She pulled her lips back, judgeful eyes scanning Lana's hardly put together look.

Lana twirled to look at her, scowling. "Someone stole my bag of makeup! They left me with all the crappy stuff I haven't used in years! I don't even have _eyeliner_ in there, Pietra! That's my issue. And trust me, when I find them, I'm gonna knock them into next year. I have a date with _Pryde_ tonight. I wanna look nice!"

Pietra laughed. "Really, Lana? That's your whole reason for almost bringing the house down? Did The Blob eat it again?"

Tanya saw Blob roll her eyes. "No, it wasn't me. I haven't moved from this spot in hours."

"Not like ya could if ya tried," Tanya snarked, nudging her. She jumped away before The Blob could grab her, laughing. She landed in beside Lana and Pietra who were now in a heated argument over the missing makeup bag.

"I didn't steal your makeup, Lana," Pietra spat out, crossing her arms across her chest. "I don't _need_ your cheap dollar store makeup. I've got my own stuff."

"It's not cheap dollar store makeup," Lana defended, the house shaking again. Tanya pursed her lips, debating on whether or not she should say something. "And I didn't misplace it! Someone stole it. You're the number one suspect, Pietra! You and I are the only two who wear makeup consistently. And you've used it before without permission!"

"I always _returned_ it, though!" She threw her arms in the air. "Fine, don't believe me? Go search my room! I don't _need_ your makeup. I've got plenty of my own." Lana stormed off in the direction of Pietra's room, who hurried - effortlessly, of course - after her. "But don't you dare mess up my room or I swear to God, Lana!"

Tanya took this opportunity to scurry back into her room. She hurried into Lana's room before settling back on the couch, shoulders hunched and knees drawn up. She flicked her tongue out to grab the remote, surfing through channels.

Lana came back out of Pietra's room, huffing and red in the cheeks. Pietra came up behind her, scowling. "I _told_ you I didn't have it. Did you search your whole room?" Lana whirled around to look at Pietra.

"Yes I looked at my whole room! I literally tore it apart. This is so frustrating." She stomped over to The Blob, smacking her on the back. "Yo, girl, you sure you didn't accidentally eat it again. Because I'm at my freakin' wits ends looking for this bag of makeup."

"I'm sure," she grunted, turning her attention back on the computer.

Lana groaned, stomping her feet in anger, the house shaking. "Yo, yo, yo!" Tanya cried as the televisions signal cut out. "Chill wit the powers, girl! I'm watchin' some tv and you're messin' up the signal. Check your room again. Ya miss things all tha time."

Lana swore at Tanya before stomping away. An angry scream came from her room after a few moments and Pietra just glared down the hallway. Lana emerged about ten minutes later, minimal makeup on her face. "Great, now I'm going to be late. Screw you guys." She left, slamming the door.

Pietra sat next to Tanya, stealing the remote and scowling at the stickiness on it. "Gross," she said, tossing it back to Tanya. "How'd you know it was in her room?"

Tanya hunched some more, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I mighta been tha one who took'it." Her voice was almost ashamed.

"What?" Pietra laughed, a condescending, unbelieving laugh. "Why? It's not like you use makeup, Tanya."

"Das kinda tha point, ya know? I… Sometimes I just wanna look like a girl, too, ya know? All my life I been told I ain't pretty, I ain't nothin' special. You learn ta start believin' those people. Maybe I just want'a feel pretty for once, Pietra."

The Blob laughed from her seat and Tanya shot her a nasty glare. "What?"

"You're never gonna be pretty, Toad. Just look at your name. I'm The Blob, you're The Toad. We don't get to be pretty because we weren't born to be pretty. Quicksilver, Avalanche, they got beauty borne to them. We get ugly powers to do ugly things because we're ugly people. Even an avalanche has some destructive beauty to it."

Tanya frowned, curling up in on herself further. She heard Pietra scoff. "You think being pretty is for select people?" She stood up, grabbing Tanya's elbow, almost painfully, and dragged her off the couch and into the bathroom. "Sit," she ordered, rummaging through the cabinets and pulling out makeup. Tanya felt her heart leap up into her throat.

"Whaddya gonna do wit all that, Pietra?"

"I'm going to show you - and that pile of resentment out there - that _anybody_ can be pretty." She began to mess with Tanya's face, using things Tanya had never even heard of, explaining what they were and how they were used. She even pulled out an eyelash curler. The amount of flinching and swearing and blinking should have drove Pietra crazy, but Tanya found the silver-haired girl had nothing but unlimited patience.

"Pietra," she said as the other girl had turned to rummage through more makeup. "You… you ain't gotta do this. I geddit. I ain't pretty and no amount of stuff on ma face is gonna magically make me pretty."

There was a deep set scowl on Pietra's virtually flawless face, red lips pouty and silver-blue eyes full of an emotion that Tanya couldn't name. "Tanya, do not… Never say that. This _stuff_ isn't even… You don't have to be _pretty_ to be beautiful." She set the powder she had in her hands down and grabbed a hand-held mirror, handing it to Tanya.

Tanya looked in the mirror, her hooked nose and droopy cheeks made less prominent by some magical colours Pietra had put on her face. Her skin tone was less of a yellow-sickness and more healthy, more… lovely. She frowned as she traced the ways Pietra made her eyebrows look neat and perfect with her eyes. Which - speaking of - were highlighted with deep purples and browns around them, making the yellow pop and look less like mustard and more like gold.

Her heart felt heavy as she realised that, if she had never been born a mutant, she maybe could have looked like this ordinarily. She lowered the mirror, blinking and finding she could feel the new length and curve of her eyelashes, like something heavy was in them. "Tanya," Pietra said. "Makeup doesn't make someone pretty. It just brings enunciates what was already pretty." She pushed a strand of loose hair behind her shoulder. "But beauty isn't something you can see, not really." She leaned on the counter, looking at herself in the mirror. Tanya watched her carefully, noticing a sad smile on the other girl's face. "You know, everyone says that we're the bad guys. The Sisterhood of Mutants is labeled as the mutants who have gone wrong. But I know some of the kindest mutants in this group. Some of the saddest and most hurt. Those betrayed by society and simply misunderstood. No one in the Sisterhood is here because they wanted to be 'evil'. We're all here because everywhere else told us this is where we belong."

"I used ta be a part of the X-men," Tanya said. "Remember? I left and I was with them for a few weeks."

"But you came back. Can you tell me why? It's not like my mother made you come back."

Tanya shifted. "I didn't feel welcome, ya know? An' it wasn't even 'cuz I came from tha Sisterhood. Jus, all tha girls were so pretty and they knew it. Ya saw it everywhere, an' if ya weren't pretty it was obvious. I felt left out. They didn't include me, they didn't ask if I wanted ta do stuff with any of them. I mean, tha blue girl tried all tha time, but ya could just tell it was her way of being towards people. She didn't really want'a be ma friend, she was just… being herself. Whenever I told her I didn't want'a hang or whatever, she always seemed to be so much more at ease."

"They treated you like an outcast, even the ones that tried to treat you like one of them. Because there's a stigma that follows you. They're all pretty mutants, even Nightcrawler. They're privileged to be there, and they know it. You're beautiful Tanya. Maybe you aren't the most aesthetically pleasing, and sure, your attitude is a bit crappy, but you're beautiful. Simply because you're you."

She grabbed her phone and took some pictures. "Don't worry, I'm not sending them to anyone. Just keeping them for future reference, the next time you want to snatch someone's makeup bag. And I won't tell Lana you were the one who took it. Let her believe she glanced over it and made a fuss over nothing."

Tanya looked in the mirror once more, smiling slightly, letting Pietra's words wash over her. "Thanks, yo," she said, hopping down from the toilet. "But, uh, can we wash this stuff off? It kinda itches."


	24. Bobby-centric - TRIGGER WARNING

**tw: self-harm; suicidal thoughts; self-depreciation; overall dark tones**

 **This one wasn't a prompt but a drabble I had the urge to write all on my own. When I say trigger warning, I really mean it.**

He was crying, desperately trying to dispose of the bloodied tissues and toilet paper littering the floor. His breathing is ragged and he feels like he needs to scream.

Bobby hadn't realised how much he hated being home. He hadn't realised how much he hated hiding who he really was. Prep school, a bitter laugh escaped him as he laid his head against the wall in the bathroom. He told them he was at a prep school he found that focused hard on his academics and worked on study skills. His mother had been so excited to enroll him, so proud that he was accepted.

He lifted his hand, watching as ice grew at his finger tips.

They didn't know he was a mutant. After the dinner he just had, he wasn't certain he could tell them he was. Not if being a mutant meant he was a disgusting freak of nature according to his dad. He licked his lips, fingers curling to make a fist. He brought his hand down and hit himself in the leg, opening the cuts that had been slowly healing.

He hissed in pain, but hit himself again, tears welling up in his eyes. He hated this. The never ending turmoil he felt. He wasn't good enough in school, he wasn't good enough at sports. He never did anything right at home. He got into a prep school but all his dad had done was grunt and tell him not to come home gay.

His stomach churned. There it was. The magic word.

Gay.

He could bring home A's, get a pat on the shoulder and be told to keep it up. He could score a goal in soccer and his dad would nod his head but say football would have been the better option. He could tell his parents he got accepted into a prep school – albeit, that was false – and his father would grunt. Grunt and tell him not to _come home gay_. They would eat dinner and Bobby would bite his tongue while his dad went on about how mutants and homosexuals would be the downfall of America and ultimately the world.

He'd rant and rave and Bobby's mother would just nod her head, humming in agreement until he cooled down and then she'd stand up and grab him another drink, kissing him on the cheek and telling him to watch his blood sugar.

All the while, Bobby slowly hated himself more and more.

The tears were streaking down his face and the razor called to him again, but the knocking on the door and Ronny's impatient voice told Bobby he had no time to leave anymore scars on his legs.

"Jesus, Bobby, what are you doing? Smuggling immigrants through the sewers? Hurry up, I gotta piss."

Bobby dabbed at the blood on his leg and threw more of the toilet paper into the toilet. "Don't get your panties in a knot, Ronny," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray him. "I'm almost done. I haven't had Mom's cooking in forever, give me a break." He heard a laugh like huff from the other side of the door. He flushed and ran some water, cleaning the blood of his hands. He pulled his jeans on, wincing as the rough material ran over his legs.

He slipped the razor blade into his pocket. Bobby opened the door, noticing Ronny give his face an odd look. "It's all yours," he said, pushing past him and going to his room

* * *

Night time used to be Bobby's favourite time. Now, he was plagued by his thoughts, which ate at him like acid. The razor had been thrown haphazardly into his night stand, calling out tauntingly for Bobby to pick it, drag it across his skin.

Some nights, when he was alone with his thoughts, he wondered what it would be like to die. Would he even be missed? His mother would be sad and he knew Ronny would be angry. However, that didn't answer his question. Would he be missed? How many days would go pass until his family stopped grieving him? Would his friends at the school even blink twice for him? Or would they take their moment to say how he was a wonderful friend, always smiling, cracking jokes, and then never dwell on him again?

The light outside his room flickered, causing warped orange shadows to fill his room before blinking out of existence and then back in.

The razor blade was screaming for Bobby.

He could write a note, he mused, a bitter smile on his face. He could write a note about how he didn't feel like he deserved to live. He was a disgusting freak of nature, after all.

He'd tell them he was a mutant, in his note. He'd tell them he could create snow and ice. He'd write about how, when he was using his powers, he felt a freedom he had never known. How it made him feel so alive and worthy of being alive.

He'd write about how he was gay. He'd admit he dreamt about other boys, and that he found Warren from the school so undeniably attractive. Then he'd write about how, even though he found Warren hot, he really wanted to kiss Scott. He'd say how Scott was so nice to him, even though no one _had_ to be nice to him.

He'd write about how he thought Scott was his only real friend.

He'd write about how he had never wanted to be a disappointment to his father, but he felt like he was never anything else but so.

Bobby's jaw clenched as he thought about how'd he'd kill himself. He knew where his dad kept his gun. He could always freeze and break the lock, grab the gun and sneak back into his room.

He could blow his brains out through the back of his head.

Or he could slit his wrists, long, deep lines up the length of his arm. He could take a hot bath, because he knew that hot water made the blood thinner and run faster. He could die peacefully, bleeding out.

The light flickered again.

Bobby curled up and faced his wall, back to the door, to the window. He could never do it, no matter how much he wanted to do it sometimes. The thought of killing himself scared him, but the thought of continuing to live the way he was made him _want_ to kill himself.

He swallowed hard, tears running down his face, soaking into his pillow. He'd see how this vacation went, he decided. If he returned to the school and still didn't feel any better, than maybe he would kill himself. Maybe he'd wait until the next vacation, when things got bad again. Or he could tell his parents the truth about who he was, and see where things went from there.

He fell asleep eventually. His dreams were about blood and ice and people screaming.


End file.
